


The Fiddler and the Maestro

by dahlstrom



Series: The Fiddler & the Maestro [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:59:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 66,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3641022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dahlstrom/pseuds/dahlstrom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Symphony AU. Kurt is the 27-year-old first violinist and concertmaster of the Oregon Symphony Orchestra in Portland. Blaine arrives in town to guest conduct their concert of Holst's The Planets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Livejournal January-March 2012. Masterpost: http://colfer.livejournal.com/47608.html

**Chapter One - "Grazioso"**

_Tonight, tonight._

Kurt smiled at the text message, shaking his head with a soft sigh. He knew he only had a moment to respond to it, because outside he heard a car door closing and then a young boy's voice saying goodbye to his mother - _"It's okay if you're a little late picking me up, Mr. Hummel doesn't mind!"_ His fingertips flew over his phone's screen:

_It all begins tonight._

Less than ten seconds later - she must have already had it typed out - the phone chimed again.

_I'll see him (in the flesh!!) and the world will go away._

He couldn't hold back a snort at that one. Shameless, that's what Rachel was. Two months of anticipation for this guest conductor had been bad for her, he thought. She was so smitten from afar and Kurt just knew the guy would end up being too good to be true. 

He didn't have time for another response because of the sharp, rapid knocks on his front door. Tucking the phone back into his pocket, Kurt went to open it, smiling broadly and genuinely at the twelve-year-old kid standing on his porch, red-cheeked from the cold and clutching his violin case in his right hand.

"Hi Bradley, come on in. Ready to play me that Brahms?" He waved at Bradley's mother in the car, who honked twice in farewell before driving away.

"Totally, Mr. Hummel." The kid grinned, bustling past Kurt toward the living room as if this were his own house and not just where he came twice a week for lessons. "I rock so hard at it, you'll see."

Kurt chuckled as he closed the door. "Well, it's a lullaby, so I hope you don't rock _too_ hard."

 

He had Rachel's green tea with lemon and pomegranate juice ready and waiting for her when she breezed into Starbucks that evening before rehearsal. As expected, she seemed practically _breathless_ with excitement. She was beaming as she took her cup from him and kissed his cheek, making a little smacking sound with her mouth.

"Someone's chipper," Kurt said dryly, but his smile was affectionate.

"I am, I am," she chirped, primly adjusting her trademark red beret. Kurt always _wanted_ to hate it but couldn't bring himself to do it; she just looked so damn cute wearing it. "I can't believe you're not more excited. I thought this of all things would help you feel better!"

Kurt narrowed his eyes at her over the top of his coffee cup. He swallowed deliberately. "If you're so convinced he's straight - which you clearly _are_ \- why would his being here make me feel better?"

"Eye candy?" Rachel suggested, and Kurt just rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. You were just as googly-eyed as I was, don't lie."

He wouldn't lie, no. As soon as they'd been told Blaine Anderson would be coming to guest conduct, Rachel had gone searching and discovered two videos of him on Youtube, one conducting the San Diego Symphony and the other in Fort Worth. Kurt was at once drawn to and startled by his style - much more exuberant than he would have expected from someone his own age. But both he and Rachel had positively _cooed_ when he turned to bow at the end of each video and the camera had zoomed in on his face. Since then, Rachel had been counting the days, but Kurt's recent messy personal issues had prevented him from devoting as much attention to the arrival as she was.

He held the door open for her, and as soon as she'd gone through it he tugged the collar of his coat more snugly around his neck to fight the chill. "I don't know," he said, finally responding to the last thing she'd said. "I guess you're right. God knows I need _something._ It's not as if I can put out a call for new students: 'Hot men only; sexual orientation not a problem, I just want to look'."

Rachel nudged his arm with her shoulder as they walked briskly down 6th toward Main. "I think you're past the 'just looking' stage now, anyway." Her tone was gentle, but firm. "It's time for you to get back out there, Kurt."

He shot a sideways glance at her. "It's only been three months."

"Three months after a two-year relationship that was really only one and a half because of how long you guys were fighting. So technically, it's been _nine_ months."

Kurt groaned. "We'll see."

She let out a sigh and linked her arm through his as they turned the corner onto Main. "I love you, and seeing you unhappy makes _me_ unhappy. The only thing getting you through is work. How was Bradley today, by the way?"

"Perfect. Completely perfect." Warmth crept back into Kurt's voice now, and he smiled again. "I need to talk to his mother about adding an extra weekly lesson because he's doing so well and I don't want him to slack off. I'd teach him every day if I could." Kurt took another long sip of coffee, taking his time because he knew Rachel wouldn't steer the conversation back to his woeful romantic state unless he let her. "He's so excited to come to the concert next weekend, too. I'm just so proud of him."

"Aww, see!" Rachel squeezed the crook of his elbow. "That's why you need to find somebody new, so you guys can have _kids!_ "

So much for his instincts. "One step at a time," he said patiently, and held her back when she started to step out into the street from the corner, apparently not noticing the oncoming car. "What would you do without me, huh?" he teased.

"Thank you," she murmured. "I'm just so excited about seeing Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome tonight."

Kurt bit his lip to keep from laughing. Blaine Anderson hadn't looked all that tall to him in those videos, but then again, Rachel was so small that almost anyone was tall to her. "You'll see him very soon," he assured her, patting her hand before pulling his arm from hers to open the door to Brunish Hall and head into rehearsal.

 

Kurt took his job seriously, so he was nearly always the first one to arrive, whether Rachel came with him or not. He moved quietly around the space - organizing chairs and music stands, making sure there was enough water in the cooler, and since they would have a conductor today, he straightened items on the small table where he would sit and rocked the stool to check that it wouldn't wobble. While he did these small, yet oddly comforting tasks, Rachel stayed out of his way, standing in her favorite corner for acoustics and singing scales. She grew progressively louder with each member of the orchestra's arrival.

Only when he was completely satisfied that the room was ready did he sit in his own chair and open his violin case. Even though he always inspected and tuned the instrument before he left for rehearsal, he checked it from top to bottom again, just in case something had shifted out of place during the trip from home to here. 

Soon, almost everyone had come in, but there was no sign of their guest. Rachel had gathered her small flock around her but kept shooting looks over at Kurt, and when he met her eyes she would glance at the door. He could only shrug. It was 6:28. Two minutes.

The last trumpet player darted through the door and, when he saw Kurt glaring at him, mumbled an apology as he wove his way through the jungle of chairs. Kurt turned his body to watch him until he was seated, red-faced and thoroughly abashed (though Kurt knew he'd start muttering maliciously to his neighbors as soon as Kurt looked away) and consequently he missed the conductor's big entrance by a second or two. 

"Right on time!" an unfamiliar voice called from the doorway, filling the room and stopping all conversation. Kurt swiveled and, most uncharacteristically, came very close to dropping his violin.

Blaine Anderson was anything but _tall._ He was tiny and compact and somehow still ridiculously gorgeous. Once he got over how short he was, Kurt's attention was immediately drawn to his hair, which was totally different from the slicked-down helmet it had been in those Youtube videos: a mass of dark curls that were practically _lush._ Kurt darted his eyes around the room and wasn't the least bit surprised to see that every last straight female in the orchestra was gazing at Anderson with a dreamy smile. He wanted to roll his eyes, but since he was fighting hard to keep his own expression from matching theirs, he just couldn't. 

As he strode toward the table, Anderson zeroed in on Kurt and gave him a warm, confident smile, which was a little surprising. Kurt wasn't used to conductors immediately making him feel _comfortable_ in their presence. Most viewed him as another underling, but worse than all the rest since they would actually have to converse with him, as concertmaster. He smiled back uncertainly, shifting a bit in his chair, and when Anderson turned his head to focus on the room at large, Kurt inhaled deeply.

"Hello, Oregon. I'm Blaine Anderson, and let me just say that I'm incredibly humbled to be here working with you. I've heard nothing but excellent things." His eyes were roving around the orchestra as he spoke, and Kurt thought - _thought_ \- Anderson might have deliberately caught his eye with the last thing he said. "We're going to have a great week, a great concert with a great piece, and I already know I'll be sad to leave next Monday." 

_Way to lay it on,_ Kurt thought, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too much. But the guy was actually being sincere, so that went a long way.

"Okay!" Anderson said happily, bringing his hands together and rubbing them. He looked at Kurt and asked, "All tuned up?" Kurt shook his head apologetically and wanted to give some signal to explain why (trumpet players _would_ have to ruin it for everyone) but Anderson went on. "Oh, you didn't have to wait for me. But I like hearing it, so be my guest. Just pretend I'm not here."

Flustered, Kurt stared at him for an instant before standing abruptly and turning to face the rest. "Noah, please?" He could hear Anderson behind him, shuffling papers and getting himself organized, but tried to tune it out as the oboist gave his A note. Kurt pointed to each section in turn, saving strings for last, and by the time everyone was ready and he was seated again, Anderson was perched on his stool, watching them expectantly. 

"Thank you," he said in that same spirited tone. "I see we have our sopranos, so let's begin with "Neptune"."

This annoyed Kurt because he'd assumed they would start at the beginning, but as he rapidly flipped pages, he realized that it did make sense. The choir would only be needed for that one movement. He glanced toward the women and saw Rachel staring at him, and when he frowned at her, she surreptitiously pointed toward Anderson. Kurt shrugged questioningly, but when Rachel placed her bunched fingertips together and then drew her hands apart in a straight line, he understood. He looked back to the conductor and had to bite down hard to keep from snorting with laughter. The baton in Anderson's right hand was not a standard white or blond wood, but _lilac._

In Kurt's opinion, that put Blaine Anderson's assumed heterosexuality into extreme question. Kurt had worked with close to a hundred conductors since high school - male and female, old and young, completely crazy and wonderfully sane - and he had never, ever seen one use a purple baton. He shared one more quick bemused look with Rachel and then had to shove everything out of his mind, because that silly purple baton was tapping at the stand.

 

Nearly three hours later, after Kurt caught his eye and pointed to his wrist to indicate that they were about to run over, Anderson gave the orchestra a wide smile, set down his baton, and brought his palms together in a gesture of gratitude. "Wonderful. Thank you everyone, wonderful job tonight. Until tomorrow." Amid the usual clatter of instruments being put away and the low rumble of talk, he looked at Kurt and said politely, "Mr. Hummel, a word, please."

Kurt stood at once, violin in his left hand and bow in his right, and moved closer to the conductor's table, smiling a bit nervously. He hoped he wasn't about to be reprimanded for showing off a little on his solos. But Anderson's expression was pleased as he crossed his arms over his chest and took an automatic step closer to Kurt. "This is a fine, fine group you've got here," he said quietly, and Kurt breathed a sigh of relief, nodding as he glanced around the room.

"Yes, they're in good shape, for the most part. I'm sorry about the timpani mistake..." Anderson held up a hand and started to shake his head, but Kurt went on. "Sam's pretty new. He's only been here for about a month. But he's settling in fine."

"And you in particular are extremely good. I'm very impressed."

Kurt lowered his eyes with a modest smile. "Thank you, Mr. Anderson."

"Oh, please. I've done my research, I know you're older than I am - even if it's only a year. Call me Blaine, I insist."

Surprised, Kurt pressed his lips together to keep his smile from becoming an all-out grin. This guy just got better and better. "Kurt," he said, and offered his hand automatically, feeling a bit foolish even when Blaine shook it at once.

"There, now that's out of the way. And yes, I was about to say that they seem well-versed in the piece. How long have you worked with them on it?"

"Only a few days. They've never done the entire suite before, but "Mars" was included in a concert three years ago, and "Mercury" was... either last year or the year before, I can't remember." 

Blaine nodded, his jaw determinedly set, but he was still smiling. "Good. I wondered if we could get together tomorrow afternoon, if you're free. Or this evening? For coffee or a drink, just to discuss the piece, the crew, you know."

Kurt hadn't been sure whether to anticipate this; not every guest conductor took the time to meet with him, and only a few offered a conference in public. And this one's eyes were _awfully_ distracting, so he fumbled his words slightly when he said, "I- um, let's see, tomorrow afternoon... I have a student until 2:30--"

"You have students?" Blaine sounded somewhere between startled and amused.

Kurt smiled somewhat defensively. "Yes, just a few. Privately, in my home." He shrugged one shoulder, his smile becoming a bit sheepish. "Staves off boredom." Immediately, he regretted that comment. The last thing he needed was this guy running off to the orchestra's music director and telling him Kurt needed more work to do. But Blaine just nodded, chuckling softly in apparent understanding. "So... yes, she'll be there until 2:30, and I can be downtown by 3:30 or so."

"I'm staying at the Hilton, let's meet up at one of the places in there. I believe it's called the Bistro 921? I had lunch there today, it was excellent."

"Yes, I've been there."

"Great. We can talk, then have an early dinner and walk over for rehearsal. Sound good?"

Kurt practically gaped at him. An early _dinner?_ That was a complete and total first. Between that and all the smiles tonight and the rather disarming way Blaine was looking at him, Kurt thought it sounded more like... well, not a strictly professional meeting. But he kept his cool and just smiled again with a nod. "Sounds perfect."

They quickly exchanged business cards just in case something came up, and Kurt was about to say good night when Blaine spoke again. "One more thing. May I take a look at your instrument?"

Given where Kurt's mind had just gone a moment ago, he wasn't really surprised when it zoomed straight into the gutter with _that_ comment. He managed to recover himself quickly and said, "Certainly," even though the violin had been four feet from Blaine all evening and he didn't quite understand why he wanted to look at it now. He held it up delicately for inspection, watching Blaine's eyes as they examined every inch of the front, and then the back when Kurt turned it. 

"Gorgeous," Blaine murmured. "Curtin?"

Kurt couldn't help but smile. The man knew his violins, clearly. "No, Becker. 1952." _In other words, worth a hell of a lot._ "Do you play?" 

Now _Blaine_ smiled, but it seemed self-conscious, and shook his head. "Viola." Kurt tried to hold back a small smirk - and failed - and at once Blaine held up a hand, closing his eyes and turning his head slightly. "Don't. I don't even want to hear it." He laughed brightly, and - yes, Kurt felt his heart actually skip a beat. _Shit._

"I won't say a word," Kurt assured him, but he was laughing a little himself.

It was a lovely little moment, and Blaine's focus drifted very slowly from Kurt's eyes back down to the violin he held. "But yes, it's beautiful. Thank you."

"Of course." Kurt lowered his arm and cradled the violin, still smiling. "3:30 tomorrow?"

"Yes, absolutely. I'll see you then."

They shook hands again, and Kurt knew he didn't imagine that Blaine's grip lingered a touch longer than really necessary. He turned back to his chair, his cheeks warm as he wiped rosin from the violin's strings, loosened the bow hair, and then put everything away in his case. Thankfully, they weren't the last ones in the hall, so Kurt didn't feel awkward about the silence between them as they got their things together to leave. He wished he could come up with some brilliant excuse to keep talking to Blaine, but his mind was a blank. He was _rusty._

Although the sopranos had been let go early in the rehearsal, after Blaine had run through "Neptune" three times and was satisfied, Rachel had stayed to wait for Kurt. She loved hearing them play, and had brought a book to keep her occupied, so she wasn't just hanging around. When Kurt met up with her in the hallway, she could tell at once that Something Had Happened. "Tell me," she insisted, linking their arms and gripping his tightly, staring up at him as they walked. "Tell me _now._ "

"It's nothing! Anderson wanted to talk to me for a minute, that's all." He decided immediately to put off revealing that he and Blaine were on a first name basis already. 

"Did you put in a good word for me?" she asked sweetly.

Kurt held back a snort of laughter. During a break they'd had a heated debate about the significance of the lilac conductor's baton, which ended with Rachel smacking his arm with her book and flouncing off. 

"What?!"

He just chuckled, and bent to kiss the top of her head through her beret. "You're just cute. Okay, I'll tell you what happened." Pausing for dramatic effect, and also to savor the words before he said them out loud, Kurt said confidently, "I'm pretty sure I got asked out on a date."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Symphony AU. Kurt is the 27-year-old first violinist and concertmaster of the Oregon Symphony Orchestra in Portland. Blaine arrives in town to guest conduct their concert of Holst's The Planets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Livejournal January-March 2012. Masterpost: http://colfer.livejournal.com/47608.html

**Chapter Two - "Affrettando"**

 

Rachel had insisted that they go for a drink after rehearsal so Kurt could relay every word of his conversation with Blaine (and so she could then dissect it all to death). They ended up finishing two bottles of wine at The Heathman, and Kurt collapsed into bed after one in the morning. He woke up late, having just enough time to shower, dress, and bolt down some coffee before his first lesson arrived. Not the best way to start the day. 

Instead of a real lunch, he just nibbled at some carrots and hummus while he got in some practice. Alone time with his violin always helped, and he felt more centered for his afternoon lesson. Good thing, too - it did not go well.

"Let's try it again, Sora," Kurt said patiently, very glad that he had mastered the impulse to wince when one of his students produced a squeal of strings like Sora just had. Well, she had _been_ doing it for the past 15 minutes, and it was getting harder for him to keep an even expression.

She let her bow flop into her lap and impatiently blew a lock of bright pink hair out of her eyes. "I can't do it. I just can't."

"You _can._ Just press down on the strings a little harder. Watch my fingers." He demonstrated, making sure she saw exactly where and how hard they were pressed, then drew his bow across, filling the air with the correct notes. "Now you."

But she made no move to raise her bow. "I don't know why I thought I could do this. I'm too old now."

Kurt laughed lightly. "You're never too old." Sora was 19, not 90, and this was only her fifth lesson.

"What would you know, you started when you were four," she grumbled, but lifted her bow again with a deep sigh. Brow furrowed, she stared at Kurt's fingers and then at her own, and since he could see she would get it right this time he didn't play along with her. The grin that spread across her face when the proper notes came from her violin was the best thing Kurt had seen in days. "Yes!"

"See? Told you." He smiled back at her, and without further encouragement she sat up straighter in her chair and played the same four bars they'd been going over for the entire lesson - _perfectly_ this time. Kurt wasn't sure who was beaming harder, Sora or himself.

 

He was still riding high as he entered Bistro 921 and grinned widely when he saw Blaine waving to him from a table across the room. Kurt swiftly picked his way through the tables, holding his violin case against his side to keep it from jostling, and shook Blaine's offered hand enthusiastically. 

"It's good to see you, thank you for coming." Blaine's eyes and smile were just as warm and inviting as they'd been last night, and Kurt couldn't stop the small flutter in his chest. He'd forgotten about Rachel's analysis in the wake of Sora's lesson and now it all suddenly rushed back to him. _But he's just doing his job,_ Kurt insisted to himself. _He probably smiles like that at baristas and cashiers at the grocery store, too._

"Sit, please," Blaine said, and then added, "Let me clear some room first though, sorry." It looked as if Blaine had been there for a while; the square table was cluttered with sheet music, an open laptop, an iPod, a glass of water with only a few ice cubes that hadn't yet melted, and a mostly-empty wineglass.

"No problem." Kurt slid into a chair next to the one Blaine had stood from and tucked the violin case under the table, close enough to his feet for him to feel it at all times. It was a little uncomfortable and he had to remind himself not to kick it, but setting it in one of the empty chairs would just be _asking_ for someone to swipe it. Paranoid? Probably. He didn't care. His entire life was in that case. 

While Blaine shifted items on the table, Kurt pulled his iPad from his messenger bag along with his own sheet music - a scratch copy, so he could make notes on it - and was ready for whatever Blaine wanted to discuss first. A waiter appeared before they could get started, though, and Kurt eyed the wineglass for a second, but ordered coffee instead. "Same for me," Blaine told the waiter, downing the last swallow of wine and handing over the glass.

"I save the alcohol for after playing," Kurt explained, smiling a little. 

"You're smart," Blaine replied. "I probably shouldn't have had that one glass either. Plus, I'm still a little jet-lagged."

"Oh, where did you come in from?" Kurt asked, just to be polite.

"Home in Iowa for a few days."

Kurt raised an eyebrow in slight surprise. "I could have sworn you were from New England. You have a bit of an accent."

With a grin, Blaine said, "I went to college in _Bawstin._ "

Impressed, Kurt started to ask where, but the waiter came back with their coffee just at that moment. Both he and Blaine reached for the caddy of sweeteners at the same time and their hands collided, resulting in slightly awkward laughter from both of them. _It's like we're in a damn rom-com,_ Kurt thought, almost shaking his head in disbelief. Blaine gestured graciously for Kurt to get his packet first. 

"So, I've been mulling over what to do about the second harp," Blaine said, without preamble, and Kurt had to force his brain back to work mode. "Lack thereof, I mean."

Nodding, Kurt began flipping through his sheet music to find the right page. "I talked to Eugene and Bend and even Seattle, but they're all performing this weekend too and can't spare their harpist. I was going to email a couple of friends at PSU today but didn't have time... I can do it now?"

But Blaine was waving a hand. "Don't worry about it. I'm rearranging it. Almost done." He shuffled through some of his own pages, extracted a few, and handed them to Kurt, who was gaping at him. Normally, a conductor would wait to speak to him about such a change first; that Blaine had just gone ahead and done it didn't exactly sit well with Kurt. He scanned the pages with slightly narrowed eyes, preparing to hem and haw about the new arrangement, but it seemed to work rather well - on paper, at least. 

"I'll go over this with Jen tonight," he said, somewhat coolly. He started to tuck the pages in with his own, but Blaine reached over and plucked them from his fingers with a small smile.

"Not quite finished yet."

"Oh, right." 

A very faint frown line formed between Blaine's eyes, making Kurt wonder if he'd picked up on the irritation. Kurt bit his lip. Blaine seemed very nice and enthusiastic, and his slight overconfidence was no reason for Kurt to cause friction, especially not this early in the week. He started to say something to ease the moment, but Blaine took care of that himself by simply changing the subject. "That was my only real concern so far, so tell me more about the crew." He picked up his coffee and took a small sip, not breaking eye contact with Kurt. "Last night you mentioned that the second timpanist is fairly new; is there anyone else?"

Relieved, Kurt nodded. "Yes, a few." He went through the list for Blaine, not even needing to take out his roster to remember all the new names, which pleased him. "So Sam is still pretty much brand-new, and the rest of the newbies have been here for up to six months, and it's the first symphony for a couple of them." He left the rest unsaid, but clearly implied: "Go easy on them, would ya? They're still finding their feet." Blaine nodded, now smiling again, and Kurt knew he understood. 

"And you might have noticed Ryan - one of the younger violinists, Asian guy - sort of flexing his left wrist a lot? He broke it recently. He was really worried he wouldn't be able to play anymore, and it kind of messed him up. Personally, I think it's too soon for him to be back because it obviously still hurts quite a lot, but he keeps telling me he's fine." Kurt paused to take in Blaine's reaction and to let him respond if he wanted, but he just nodded for Kurt to go on. "If you wouldn't mind just letting me handle him, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course."

"Let's see..." Kurt took a long sip of coffee and then held the cup between his hands, gazing across the restaurant at nothing as he tried to think of things Blaine needed to know. "Oh, Alicia, second flute, is three months pregnant. Not a big deal, but just so you know." There were other issues, but he decided they were a bit too personal. He'd address them only if the need arose. For instance, if Noah was too busy staring at Rachel to make his cues, Blaine would find that out on his own. "I think that's all."

"Who's been here the longest?" Blaine asked.

"Steven," Kurt replied at once. "First violist. 23 years. Amazing guy. Tell him you play too and he'll try to adopt you. And he's a beekeeper!" Blaine laughed, almost choking on his coffee, and Kurt just nodded with a grin. "I'm serious. He makes beeswax candles and flavored honeys, and sells them at the Farmers Market. And he brings in little jars of honeycomb for all of us every couple of months. Also?" Kurt dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper and Blaine automatically leaned closer, his eyes widening. "There are rumors he used to be a nudist, but they're not validated." 

Blaine just stared at him for several seconds, his mouth slightly open and turned up at the corners, and then scoffed. "You're totally hazing me."

"No, I swear!"

"So, what, nobody's brave enough to just go up to the guy and ask him point-blank?"

Kurt pretended to be ruffled. "We have _class,_ thank you."

"Well, I don't. So I'm going to ask him tonight."

"I'll believe that when I see it." His tone was playful, but as soon as he'd said it Kurt literally bit his own tongue, a little ashamed at his insolence. Yes, Blaine was his age and a cheerful sort - his reaction last night when Kurt had acted all superior about him being a viola player was another perfect example - but he was still Kurt's immediate superior for the week. As with any boss and subordinate situation, there was a fine line that must be respected. Kurt cleared his throat and gave Blaine a quick, apologetic smile. "Sorry," he said softly, shaking his head a little.

"For what?" Blaine sounded genuinely puzzled. Their eyes met and Kurt started to fumble with an explanation, but Blaine seemed to catch up before he could say anything. "Oh, don't worry about it. Listen, Kurt, I'm not a hard-ass. That's part of why I wanted to get together this afternoon, to let you know that. I meant what I said to the group last night - we're going to have a good time this week. It's not a difficult piece and we'll have a blast. Okay?"

Kurt studied him closely for a few seconds, then nodded and smiled again, more relaxed now. "Got it."

The waiter came by to refill their coffee, and as they stirred in more sweetener, Blaine said, "You became CM almost two years ago, if I'm right?" Kurt nodded. "Like I told you yesterday, you're very good, but I have to ask - how did you manage to score the position at your age?"

He'd been waiting for this question. It always came up. "I got very lucky." Kurt delicately placed his spoon in the saucer and picked up his cup, took a sip, and held the cup between his hands as he spoke - he just hoped Blaine would be able to follow. "The CM retired, and the guy who took over was fine for about a year, but then his wife got sick and he had to resign. I was principal second chair at the time, but Erin, the assistant CM chair, was about to go on maternity leave, so I got bumped to the top spot. She was to take over when she came back, but she declined the contract and recommended that I stay on." 

Blaine was watching him with raised eyebrows, and when Kurt finished he smiled slowly. "Do you mind my asking if there was any, ah... resentment?"

"I don't mind, and yes, there was. 80% of the orchestra is older than I am, and _all_ of the other violins were older than me at the time, and most of them had been here longer, too. I joined when I was 19--"

" _Wow._ While you were still in college?"

"Yes, sophomore year. I went to Portland State, and also got my Masters there. Didn't have much of a choice, unless I wanted to break my contract with the orchestra to go somewhere else. But PSU is a great school, so I was happy."

"It is. Go on. Resentment?"

Kurt nodded. "I had to work hard to get a lot of them to listen to me." He laughed ruefully. "Sometimes I still have trouble with that. But only from a couple of the really cantankerous old fogies." He wouldn't tell Blaine which ones, at least not now. "And hey, you should talk! You're younger than I am and look where you are."

Blaine's smile was closer to a grimace. "Through a lot of hard work, believe me." 

"Well, yes, I'm sure. You said you went to school in _Bawstin_ " - Kurt grinned as he imitated the accent Blaine had used earlier - "so where did you go?"

"Berklee for undergrad," (Kurt pursed his lips, his eyebrows shooting up) "and Boston Conservatory for my Masters." Kurt didn't bother holding back his admiration and let out a low whistle. Blaine smiled modestly. "I got lucky, too."

"Clearly," Kurt murmured. His own academic career paled in comparison, even including the honor of juggling the orchestral position with his studies. 

"My parents are both in the business - Mom's an opera singer, and my dad is a luthier - so they pushed me hard. How old were you when you started?" Kurt told him, and Blaine scoffed. "Yeah, see, they shoved me in front of the piano when I was _two._ I could play Beethoven by the time I was five, and they gave me a viola for my birthday that year."

But Kurt was still caught on his previous sentence. "Wait, they _shoved_ you?"

Blaine shrugged. "As in, they sat me down and said 'watch Mommy and learn from her'. I did, but it took a long time for me to really enjoy it."

"How long?"

"When I was seven or eight."

Kurt stared at him. "You stuck with it for that long?"

"It was another chore around the house, yeah. Like taking out the garbage. I did it because I thought my parents knew everything and this was just something kids did. When I started school, my friends would ask me to come over to play and I'd say 'no, I have to go home and practice, don't you?' and they'd look at me like I was crazy. So that's when I figured out there was something different in our house, but I was just so used to it by then. I still didn't really like it, but I couldn't tell them I wanted to stop. I started playing around with writing music then, just to see if I could get something out of it that I _did_ like, and that's what hooked me."

Kurt had no idea how to respond. His own introduction to music had been entirely different: he had wandered into his mother's sewing room and stopped short at the sound of the violin concerto coming from the radio on the antique dresser where she kept all of her fabric. "That's pretty. What is it?" he'd asked her, and when she told him, he had said, with all the confidence of a determined child, "I can do that, too." Music had been a part of him for so long that he had no memories at all without it, and he didn't want any. 

He was saved from coming up with something to say by Blaine chuckling and mumbling, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get all..." He wiggled his fingers in the air in lieu of verbalizing, and Kurt just smiled and shook his head.

"It's fine, really. Thank you for being so open." He barely knew this much about the orchestra's regular conductor, a man he'd worked with closely for six years. "Honesty is always important."

"Agreed," Blaine murmured, and lightly touched the handle of his coffee cup. "Why PSU?"

Kurt took a deep breath, smiling slightly. "I grew up in Salem. My dad teaches high school there, so between his tenure and my accomplishments, I got a scholarship. Well, I was offered a few of them, but I wanted to stay close to home. It's just him and me."

Blaine's expression was commiserating. "Divorce?"

"No, she died when I was eight," Kurt said, shortly but not rudely. He wasn't in the mood to elaborate.

"I'm sorry."

Kurt waved a hand, but gave him a kind smile. "It was a long time ago. Thank you, though."

Blaine nodded slightly, then picked up his cup and drained it. He started to say something else, but the waiter - who must have been watching, bored in the nearly empty cafe - appeared in seconds to give them another refill. "Actually--" Blaine broke off and looked at Kurt. "I'm hungry, are you?"

"Yes," Kurt replied, only just then realizing just how hungry he really was. "I haven't eaten much today." 

Menus were brought over, and as Kurt studied his, he could feel Blaine watching him. He glanced up and was a little surprised at the expression on Blaine's face; it seemed almost mischievous. Kurt raised an eyebrow at him and lowered his menu, looking at him expectantly.

"I was just wondering," Blaine said quietly, and in a lower octave than usual. "Would your boyfriend be okay with this? Having dinner with a semi-attractive out-of-towner?"

Kurt had to work hard to keep his mouth from dropping open. He bit the inside of his cheek, but a smile broke through anyway, and he licked his lips quickly, thinking fast. "I wouldn't necessarily call it 'having dinner'. We're having a business meeting, and getting something to eat during it." He had once again forgotten about all of Rachel's speculation last night on what this was really about, but now he couldn't stop hearing her voice in his head. 

_"I was watching him for the entire rehearsal and he was **totally** making eyes at you, Kurt. Especially during your solos. He was practically drooling, okay?"_

Maybe she really had been right. Blaine's question was downright bold, and Kurt rather liked his roundabout way of asking if he was seeing anyone. Or perhaps he really did just assume Kurt _was_ involved. Either way... yeah, he liked it. It had been a long time since he'd been even remotely pursued.

"Okay, we'll call it that, then." Blaine looked quite sly now, and he didn't take his eyes off Kurt as he set his menu down and crossed his arms, resting his elbows on the table and leaning a little closer to Kurt. "The question still stands. Would he mind?"

"Gosh, I don't know..." Kurt said airily, gazing up at the ceiling as if in thought. "Maybe I should call him. Get _permission._ " He glanced back down at Blaine and just couldn't hold it together any longer. "No boyfriend at the moment. But if you wanted to know, you could have just asked me straight out."

"Aw, but where's the fun in that?" 

"True. And what about _your_ boyfriend, would he mind?" At once, Kurt was convinced this would backfire on him. Blaine would reply that he and the lucky bastard he was dating had a very honest and trusting relationship, that said lucky bastard understood Blaine had to take these business-meetings-with-food from time to time and that he was just fine with it. _Idiot._

But Blaine just laughed, loud enough for the bartender to stare over at their table. "You're kidding, right? Why would I even open this door if I had a boyfriend?"

 _And what door might that be?_ Kurt almost asked. Instead, he focused on his coffee cup, running a fingertip around the rim as he spoke, doing his best to keep his tone light. "Just checking. You're a handsome and charming stranger who just happens to be my boss for the next few days. I'm not sure what to think of you yet."

Still smiling, Blaine shook his head and picked up his menu again. "I'm sure you'll have a solid opinion before I leave."

They ordered calamari to share and salads - Dungeness crab for Blaine, spinach with strawberries for Kurt - and more coffee, as well as glasses of water. As soon as the waiter had left, Blaine laid his forearms on the table in front of him and fixed Kurt with a steely gaze. "Tell me if I'm pushing it here, but you said 'no boyfriend _at the moment_.' Is someone waiting in the wings?"

Kurt laughed softly, shaking his head. "No, I'm just still getting used to the idea of not having one. I broke up with someone about three months ago."

"And I'm guessing it was a long-term thing, if you're not used to it?"

He nodded, opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again. This was toeing that fine line - possibly stepping over it. Just because he felt comfortable with Blaine and wasn't uneasy about discussing this particular topic with him, it didn't mean he _should._ He hesitated for another couple of seconds, then just thought 'the hell with it' and inhaled deeply. "Two years, or, as a friend of mine puts it, a year and a half of actual relationship followed by six months of fighting while we were still technically together." He'd almost said "sleeping together" but managed to catch himself. "Now that I've been away from it for a little while and can look back, I understand that it wasn't really a good situation at any point." Kurt paused again, wondering if he should explain, and then realized Blaine would probably ask him to anyway.

"Sebastian is..." He sighed, shaking his head slightly. "We had nothing in common. Literally nothing. Well, except sex." He met Blaine's eyes squarely and was pleased that he didn't flinch. "He's an investment banker--" Blaine made a face, and Kurt nodded. "Yes, I know. _That_ type. He sees art in dollars, nothing else. He came to a concert with a client and that's how we met. Pawned the client off on his poor green assistant and went home with me. That's all our relationship was based on, just sex. We hardly ever went out on actual dates, and we don't like the same movies or books or anything at all. Honestly, I'm surprised we lasted as long as we did."

Blaine hummed softly, making Kurt stop and look at him questioningly, startled to see that he was blushing a little. Blaine cleared his throat and mumbled, "Sex must have been _really_ good."

"Oh, it was. It definitely was." Kurt glanced away with a tiny, regretful smile, just thinking back... and then shook himself out of it. "Anyway. I asked him to move in with me, stupidly thinking it would help, and he freaked out, then got it into his head that I was being clingy. Asking him to commit, or make it into something more than it really was - which was really just friends with benefits who didn't see other people. Or at least, _I_ didn't."

Wincing, Blaine asked, "But he did?"

Kurt shrugged. "I never asked. Didn't really want to know. But he's rich and hot, and we only saw each other in the mornings and late at night after I got back from rehearsals, so it wouldn't surprise me if he did." What _did_ surprise him was that once the thought entered his mind, it didn't hurt at all. He took a moment to savor it, and then looked up to see Blaine watching him closely. Feeling a little overwhelmed, he cleared his throat and made a pretense of straightening the knife and fork that the waiter had brought over after they'd ordered. "Anyway," he murmured. "I think I take after my father when it comes to romantic relationships. After my mom died, he dated a few women, but never came close to getting married again. They were high school sweethearts and she was it for him. I know it's cheesy, but I know when I find that guy, I'll know it right away and he'll be it for me, too. Anything else just isn't worth the time." 

Blaine seemed to need a minute to take that in, and when he replied at last his voice was so gentle and sad that Kurt's breath caught. "I know exactly what you mean." Their eyes met and held, and after several seconds Kurt started to squirm, wishing he could look around for the waiter, but he didn't want to be rude. Blaine seemed to sense that he was making Kurt anxious and glanced away, reaching for his water glass as he said, "But there's nothing wrong with having a little fun."

"Hmm," Kurt hummed, almost smiling. Had that been a hint? If so, it seemed rather crass to drop it at that point in the conversation. But he brushed it aside and imitated Blaine by taking a sip of water, then asked, "Do all of your meetings with CMs end up like this?"

"No," Blaine replied, laughing. "No, definitely not. I'm sorry, should we go back to more professional topics?"

"I think that might be best," Kurt said tactfully, smiling at him, and then up at the waiter who was walking toward them with a beautifully inviting plate of calamari.

 

Even without taking any notes, Blaine somehow remembered every person Kurt had mentioned that afternoon and made a point of singling them out during rehearsal. He praised all of the newer members of the orchestra, even going so far as to exclaim " _Bravissimo,_ Mr. Evans!" to Sam when he hadn't done anything but get his cues correct. And during a break, Kurt saw Blaine walk over to Alicia and speak to her quietly; after a moment she touched her belly with a radiant smile, so Kurt knew he must have been inquiring about her pregnancy. He had to hand it to Blaine - he certainly knew how to work his audience. _They'll be eating out of the palm of his hand by Saturday night,_ Kurt thought, smiling.

(He kept waiting for Blaine to approach Steven, the rumored former nudist, but that claim of Blaine's must have been all talk.)

Rachel pestered him during every break for details about how their meeting had gone, but he kept shushing her, not wanting to discuss it with Blaine around. Finally, he assured her that he'd tell her everything when rehearsal was over. "More wine?" she asked, eyes gleaming, and Kurt whined softly, thinking about his 9am lesson, but nodded.

And he tried not to notice how often Blaine kept glancing at him while everyone was playing, he _really_ did, but it was impossible. Blaine was almost blatant about it; other people must have picked up on it as well. Kurt didn't know if Rachel was right about him doing it last night, too, and he wasn't sure if it mattered at this point. Also, he had no idea if he liked the attention or not. It was flattering, sure, but then again he _had_ all but admitted to Blaine that afternoon that he hadn't had sex in three months, and Blaine may or may not have implied that he'd be interested in changing that. 

But Blaine would only be in town until Sunday. While they ate, he had told Kurt that he was flying to Boston early Monday morning to attend a seminar of recent graduates at the Conservatory, so there would be no lingering around town for him. Kurt just wasn't the type to hook up like that. Or at least, that's what he kept telling himself every time Blaine gave him one of those quick, yet brilliant smiles.

His resolve crumbled much faster than he'd expected. At the end of rehearsal, he was gathering his things with an impatient Rachel standing next to him when he saw Blaine walking toward them, wearing a toned-down version of his wonderful smile. "Kurt," he said warmly, and the corners of Kurt's mouth twitched. Over dinner he had told Blaine about his close friendship with Rachel, so apparently Blaine thought it was okay if she knew about his insistence on first names. "I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee again tomorrow. Not as early as today, just a half-hour or so before rehearsal?"

Startled that Blaine would be so conspicuous about asking him with Rachel standing right there, Kurt wasn't sure what to say at first. He flushed and glanced down at her, and saw that she was staring at Blaine with her prettiest smile, as if she still hoped to charm him. Trying not to roll his eyes, he looked back to Blaine. "I-- well, I usually meet up with Rachel before--"

"Rachel doesn't mind," she interrupted, beaming. 

Both men looked at her, bemused, and when Kurt met Blaine's eyes again, they were twinkling. "Rachel doesn't mind," he repeated, as if confirming, and laughed lightly. "Same place, or there's a Starbucks at 6th and Salmon if you'd rather...?"

"Yes, Starbucks," Blaine nodded, and then reached out to touch Rachel's arm. "You can have him back on Thursday. Maybe."

"Oh, he's all yours," she said dreamily, gazing back and forth between him and Kurt, and Kurt wanted to crawl under a chair. 

Blaine just grinned, clearly at ease, and looked directly into Kurt's eyes again. "I'll see you at 6, okay?"

"Yes, see you then." Kurt tried to smile back at him, but his heart was pounding so quickly that he knew it was apparent in his voice. As soon as Blaine was out of earshot, he grabbed Rachel's elbow and hissed, "I'm standing you up. Go home and drink some wine there."

"Like you'd ever ditch me, Kurt Hummel," she laughed, and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek maddeningly. "And I think you might need something stronger than wine tonight."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Symphony AU. Kurt is the 27-year-old first violinist and concertmaster of the Oregon Symphony Orchestra in Portland. Blaine arrives in town to guest conduct their concert of Holst's The Planets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Livejournal January-March 2012. Masterpost: http://colfer.livejournal.com/47608.html

**Chapter 3 - "Prestissimo"**

 

To no one's surprise, Blaine _didn't_ give Kurt back to Rachel on Thursday. 

Kurt woke up that morning to an email from him saying he wanted to go over to the concert hall that afternoon, just to check out the space and the acoustics, and would Kurt meet him there to show him around? He read it on his phone, still in bed, and just lay there grinning at the screen for several minutes before typing out a response.

_Yes, I'll give you a tour. You might want to hold my hand so you don't get lost. The Schnitz is pretty big and you're very small. Dangerous situation._

He held his breath as he pressed send, heart pounding, and for a few moments afterward he suffered through the "oh, I totally went too far" anxiety. Kurt bit his lip, clutching his phone so tightly it creaked. Dinner on Tuesday - and even the short amount of time they'd spent together on Wednesday - had cemented a good rapport between them, and Blaine hadn't really eased up on the flirting, but Kurt still wasn't sure exactly where that line was. He was beginning to wonder if there even _was_ one. 

Just as he was about to open his email again and send another reply that blamed sleepiness for his impropriety, a response from Blaine popped up, and the bottom dropped out of Kurt's stomach. He whimpered very softly as he opened the message, already mentally drafting the formal apology he'd need to send after Blaine reported him for sexual harassment. But his worries were baseless.

_Great. Meet there at 4? Grab some food after? LMK._

_PS. Hand-holding would be appreciated :) & I'll have you know I'm not **that** small._

Kurt yanked a pillow over and pressed it to his face to keep from just _wheezing_ with laughter. 

 

The Friday before a performance was always nerve-wracking for Kurt. He never had students on Fridays just for that reason, and every time one rolled around he wished he _did_ have a lesson, just to take his mind off all the other things he needed to do. 

Blaine knew without asking that Kurt's plate would be full that day, so he didn't ask about getting together. At least, Kurt told himself that was the reason; it surely couldn't be anything else, not after the time they'd spent together all week. The only other possibility - small, but still there - was that Blaine had just gotten tired of Kurt not responding to his obvious attraction. It wasn't that Kurt wasn't incredibly flattered, or that the attraction wasn't completely mutual; he just didn't really know what to do about it. He had rules for himself - rules that were completely separate from not liking to mix business with pleasure or trying to see that stupid line between them. He would have sooner hooked up with a random guy at a bar than with an infuriatingly hot and charismatic colleague who would be leaving town in three days. 

Besides, rehearsal started at five today instead of six-thirty. He would have a whole extra 90 minutes to ogle Blaine and share those increasingly frequent glances with him. That was plenty. They didn't _have_ to be alone. In fact, Kurt thought the time they spent away from the orchestra was only making whatever this was between them harder to avoid.

But of course, as luck would have it, he ran into Blaine in the middle of the afternoon anyway. City or not, Portland was _so_ small. As he was headed toward the administrative office to pick up the finalized sheet music, Kurt suddenly caught the aroma from the EuroTrash food cart half a block down. His stomach rumbled as if on cue. Sighing, he checked his watch. Artie wasn't expecting him at any particular time. He stood still, staring at the cart and debating the evils of eating first and assaulting poor Artie with Mediterranean food breath, when he saw a familiar head of dark curls emerge at the back of the line. Kurt's feet began moving toward the cart before he was even aware of it. 

He held his breath as he lingered about a foot behind Blaine, then gathered his courage and stepped up beside him, giving his arm a nudge. "Quit following me, Anderson."

Blaine's face swiftly transformed when he saw it was Kurt next to him, his eyes lighting up and his mouth spreading into that positively intoxicating smile. "Kurt! What are you doing ov-- oh, the office is right there, isn't it?" he asked, nodding across Washington Street.

Kurt smiled, nodding in return, and glanced up at the cart. There were four people in front of them, and two more had stepped up behind. "Heard about this one, huh?"

"Oh yeah, I think five or six people have told me I need to get over here. Have you...?"

"Every time I come to the office I get sucked in," Kurt sighed. "It's disgustingly good."

Blaine's smile just grew even wider. "Tell me what to get, then."

And just like that, Kurt's hectic Friday smoothed out. They bought an extra order of Nah Nah Chips to give to Artie, as a bribe to get him to allow them to eat in the office instead of huddling on the sidewalk in the cold. It worked like a charm. "God, I am _starving._ I'd stand up and give you a hug if I could," Artie exclaimed when they handed over the basket. 

Kurt introduced him to Blaine, who acted as if the wheelchair Artie sat in didn't exist and simply said, "I heard you play a pretty mean bass guitar, among other things." Artie exchanged a quick look with Kurt, grinning, and like magic, a friendship was born. They were adding each other on Facebook within ten minutes.

Half an hour later, the food was long gone and Kurt was getting anxious about time again. He finally told Blaine that he was welcome to stay and have Artie put him to work but he himself _had_ to go. Blaine gave him such a plaintive look that Kurt had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his mouth from dropping open. _Don't leave me,_ he seemed to be saying. They said their goodbyes, and Kurt was almost to the door, Blaine at his side, when Artie whistled from his desk. Kurt looked back and saw him holding out the binder of sheet music; he'd been so flustered that he had just walked right off and left it sitting there. Blushing, he hurried back over to take it, muttering thanks.

"You fucking him?" Artie murmured, so low that Kurt barely heard him.

" _No._ "

Artie scoffed. "Better get on it. Time's wastin'."

Kurt just glared at him, his cheeks going even redder. "You're not allowed in tomorrow night," he hissed. "I'm revoking your ticket."

"Hey--"

"Revoked!" Kurt called over his shoulder as he walked quickly back to the door. Blaine looked at him curiously, but Kurt just waved a hand. "Tell you later."

 

"You know, you guys are in such great shape that I don't know if we even need a dress rehearsal tomorrow," Blaine said at the end of rehearsal that night, beaming around at the orchestra. Excited murmuring broke out, but Kurt just stared at him, both horrified and irritated that he would say such a thing. Yes, they _were_ in great shape, but the idea of altering the routine was out of the question. Not on Kurt's watch. 

After about 20 seconds Blaine finally looked back at him, and the speed with which his expression changed was almost funny. "On second thought," Blaine said quietly, and cleared his throat while he pretended to shuffle the sheet music in front of him. "Woodwinds, I think we do need at least one more go for "Jupiter," just to make sure it's really crisp." Now the murmuring turned into grumbles, and Kurt's spine stiffened. He wanted to turn and glare at them, but kept his body straight. Blaine looked back up with a slightly apologetic smile. "Okay? I'll see everyone at 2:00 tomorrow. Excellent work, as usual."

Kurt's pulse was racing. As much as he liked Blaine, both as a man and as the very competent conductor he was, there had been times that week when he'd wanted to just throw his bow at him. Blaine was still rough around the edges and needed to reign in his arrogance sometimes. Yes, he was the boss, but Kurt had worked so hard to gain the respect his position deserved that he hated it when Blaine undermined his authority. If they'd had more time, Kurt would have felt the need to discuss it seriously with him. 

But then Blaine would give him that ridiculously beautiful smile, like he was right now, and his annoyance would melt away. "Sorry," he said softly, stepping down from the podium to stand beside Kurt's chair. Kurt stood, not wanting to be on a lower level just then, and tried to smile. 

"It's fine, you just startled me. I couldn't imagine not having a dress. You're right, they probably _don't_ need it, but it's good to keep a steady system." Blaine still looked a little abashed, so Kurt touched his arm briefly to reassure him. "Thanks for changing your mind, even though you didn't have to."

He turned to put away his violin, but had only set the case on the seat of his chair when Blaine spoke again. "To tell you the truth, I had an ulterior motive." Kurt looked back at him, surprised to see that all of the humility had now left Blaine's face and been replaced by one of those sly little half-smiles Kurt had grown accustomed to this week. He braced himself for yet another hit of flirtation that he probably wouldn't know how to respond to, and turned to face Blaine, blinking slowly with a small, expectant smile. Blaine took a quick glance around, saw that no one seemed to be paying attention to them, and leaned closer to Kurt. "I was hoping to just lay around in bed all morning and afternoon. And not by myself."

Kurt pressed his lips tightly together, his eyes growing wide. What Blaine was implying was crystal clear, and it was without a doubt the most brazen he had ever been with Kurt. And for once, Kurt wanted to tell that annoying little voice in his head to shut the fuck up about rules, grab Blaine's hand, and drag him back to his hotel. 

Blaine was watching him intently, his eyes shifting back and forth between Kurt's to make sure they didn't miss a single thing that registered there. He was near enough for Kurt to feel the warmth radiating from his skin and to smell his cologne. Kurt dropped his eyes to stare at the strong line of Blaine's jaw, and he was so far gone that if other people hadn't been in the room, he might have ducked his head to lick it, using his tongue to follow it back to where it met his ear, where he'd whisper, " _Okay,_ " hot and dark and _slutty_. 

Blaine rested his fingers lightly on Kurt's arm. "Kurt?" he asked quietly. 

"Tired," Kurt mumbled, not really aware he'd said it out loud.

"I'm sorry?"

Kurt blinked, finally looking away from Blaine's _stupidly_ attractive ear and back into his eyes - a bad idea, since they were much more distracting. "It's been a long day," he said, projecting as much genuine regret into the words as he could. "I... thank you, really, for the offer. It's very tempting." God, he _sucked_ at this. "And I'm not just saying that, I promise." Blaine looked so crestfallen that Kurt wanted to just cup his face between his hands and kiss him even more than he already did. 

"Shit," he mumbled, stepping back from Blaine and shaking his head slightly. "Ask me again tomorrow," he said firmly, meeting his eyes again. "I just... performance anxiety. Of the musical kind," he hastily added, lifting his violin for emphasis. "The night before a concert. I can't. It just totally throws me off. I've never been able to. All the way back to high school. I did it once and I played so badly the next day. So I don't anymore." He was babbling now. _Babbling._ "Ask me tomorrow," he repeated, giving Blaine a quick smile that he hoped was equal parts contrite and promising, because _yes,_ tomorrow. Unless he came to his senses. Which might very well happen. Maybe. 

 

When everyone gathered at the concert hall the next afternoon, Kurt was worried that Blaine would treat him coldly after the brush-off. It was a concern he definitely didn't need piled on top of the usual pre-performance jitters, but there was nothing to be done about it. However, when Blaine greeted him with the same warmth and kindness he'd showed Kurt all week, he relaxed. Perhaps Blaine really hadn't taken the rejection to heart, or he was just ignoring it and concentrating on the concert. Either one worked just fine for Kurt. 

They rehearsed for an hour, took a break, and then ran through the entire suite without stopping, just as they would when the audience arrived at 7:30. And then once more, to make sure Blaine and Kurt and absolutely everybody was happy. When the orchestra dispersed at 5:00 for a dinner break, most of Kurt's nerves had left him, and he felt good enough to even ask Blaine if he wanted to join him and Rachel for a quick bite down the street at The Melting Pot. 

Rachel was on her best behavior, for once. The only time the conversation strayed even slightly from professional matters was when she asked Blaine, quite candidly, if he was really going to use that lilac baton during the concert tonight. Blaine exchanged a look with Kurt before bursting into laughter and shaking his head. "Of course not. That's just for rehearsals."

" _Oh._ " Rachel gazed at him, wide-eyed and clearly a little confused. Kurt grabbed his water glass to take a long drink from it, wanting to distract himself because he knew what was coming. "Why, though?" she asked, and Kurt snorted into his water anyway. 

"Well, as I told Kurt," Blaine explained, glancing at him again, "it's to send the right message." She just continued to look at him blankly. "To the ladies," he added bluntly, and Rachel immediately blushed. "Not to sound like a conceited jackass or anything, but I get... approached a lot," Blaine went on, and now Kurt was simply pressing the side of his water glass against his lips to stifle his laughter; if he took another sip or tried to eat a bite from his plate, he'd probably end up choking.

"I can-- well, yes, I can certainly see that happening," Rachel stammered, shifting her eyes rapidly back and forth between Blaine and Kurt. 

"Yes, I told him," Kurt managed to say, and poor Rachel's cheeks turned an even darker red. She might have hit him if they hadn't been in public; he could tell just by the look on her face. "He was flattered! Weren't you, Blaine?"

"I was, absolutely. If I weren't completely devoted to my own gender, I would have spent all week showing you a good time."

That seemed to make her feel better, and she sat up a little straighter in her chair, smiling gratefully at Blaine. "Thank you, that's very sweet."

He smiled back at her - Kurt's heart skipped a beat at the sight of it, and it wasn't even _directed_ at him - and then he asked the two of them if there was time for dessert before they had to go back to the Schnitz to get gussied up.

 

He didn't see Blaine again until just minutes before curtain. Kurt was standing in the stage right wing, very lightly running the pad of his index finger up and down the E string of his violin and watching the rest of the orchestra settle into their chairs. The stage manager was close by, speaking quietly into his headset to the lighting booth. The sounds from the house on the other side of the thick curtain were barely audible. 

Just when he was about to ask the stage manager to run and find their conductor, Blaine suddenly appeared at his side. "Are you nervous?"

Kurt looked at him and smiled as his eyes darted up to Blaine's hair. _Now_ it was plastered down into that same style from the YouTube videos Rachel had found. No more flyaway curls. Between all the gel and his sharp, pristine tuxedo, he looked like a completely different person. "Not at all," Kurt replied at last.

"Good, because you and I are gonna kill this thing."

Kurt had to grin at that. Without thinking, he tucked his violin under his arm so he could reach over and straighten Blaine's white bow tie. It was only off-center by a fraction of an inch, but he couldn't resist.

"Thanks," Blaine murmured.

"Anytime," Kurt said softly, and took a deep breath as he heard the stage manager order the curtain to be raised. A moment later, he and Blaine shared one last quick smile, and then Kurt made his entrance onstage. Showtime.

 

As the face of the symphony, it was Kurt's duty to schmooze with the big donors for a while after the concert. Occasionally he was able to have good, intelligent conversations with them, but it was usually a boring duty that he needed to suffer through. However, it wasn't so bad this time since he dragged Blaine along with him. Standing there with a fixed smile while disgustingly rich people fawned over the two of them, exchanging tiny looks with Blaine after little old ladies wearing ropes of pearls patted each of them on the arm, making small talk for what felt like hours... it was all so much better with a friend.

They had been sipping champagne, but as soon as the crowd slowed to a trickle, Blaine turned to him and said, almost desperately, "I need a drink. Come celebrate with me."

Kurt started to look at his watch, but Blaine wrapped his fingers around his wrist, shaking his head. "Oh, come on, please? Just for a little while! At the bar in my hotel. Don't make me go alone." Then he put on the most adorable _pout,_ and Kurt just couldn't say no to that.

"Okay, okay, let me just go change back into my street clothes--"

"No!" Blaine exclaimed, the familiar sunny smile back on his face. "It'll be much more fun to get drunk in our spiffy tuxedos!"

"Oh, now we've moved from 'I need a drink' to 'let's get plastered'?"

"Yep."

Kurt rolled his eyes, but he was smiling now, too. "If I'm hung over tomorrow for the matinee, I'm blaming you."

 

Two hours later, Kurt had stopped worrying about being able to catch the last bus to get across the river and home, and he also couldn't remember how many drinks he'd consumed. They had begun with more champagne, but after one glass Blaine had upgraded them to French 75s and oh, those were _so_ much nicer. Was this his third or his fourth? Whichever it was, Blaine was one ahead of him, he still knew that much.

"You're just so... God, watching you _play,_ " Blaine was saying, his words only just now starting to slur. A few curls had come loose from their shellacked helmet and spilled onto his forehead, his eyes were bright (and miraculously, still mostly focused), and his bow tie was undone. Kurt thought he looked absolutely delicious. "I could watch you play for _hours,_ 'kay? You have all this _passion_ and the thing is just, like, a part of your _body._ When you set it down I'm like 'wait a minute, wait, what, how'd he do that?!'" Blaine shook his head solemnly, exhaling a heavy breath. "So amazing. You're. So. _Amazing_."

Kurt had - unwisely - started to take a sip in the middle of this outpouring, and by the end he was giggling into his glass. "I have a Masters degree, you know. A Masters in amazing." He stared at Blaine with wide eyes that were trying so hard to be serious. "I'm _really_ good at it. Hey, I could teach you!" He gestured so expansively with his glass that a little liquid sloshed out, even though it was three-quarters empty.

"Nooooo. Can't teach that. Have to be born with it." Blaine grinned lazily at him, then reached over to take the glass from Kurt's hand and set it down safely on the table. 

"I was drinking that..."

"It's all watery. You drink too slow."

Kurt just giggled again and flopped back in his chair, gazing at him. God, he was _cute._ The bar was much emptier than it had been when they'd first come in, but there were still quite a few people around. Thankfully, no one was around their table for several feet, so they did have some small semblance of privacy, though not much. They weren't sitting across from each other but on adjacent sides of the table, like they had on Tuesday when they'd shared dinner, but Blaine was still too far away for Kurt's liking. He sat up straight again and leaned closer. "No, but... but I bet you're amazing too. With your--" He broke off, snorting, and shook his head. "With your stupid _viola._ I bet you are. You should have brought it with you!" Pouting, he mumbled, "Wanna see you play."

"Next time," Blaine said with a decisive nod. "Next time I'm in town, for sure. But I could play yours for now?"

He actually ducked his head under the table, looking for Kurt's violin case, and that sobered Kurt up for a hot second. "No way!" he exclaimed, perhaps a little too loudly. He smacked at Blaine's right hand, which was clutching the table edge for balance, and Blaine popped back up, wincing and rubbing his right hand with his left, mouthing " _Owww_ " with pursed lips. "No, you can't touch it. Nobody touches it but me, nope."

"Please, though? I'll be-- shhh, I'll be so careful, I promise."

Kurt shook his head hard. "N-O. I've never even let Rachel touch it and she's my best friend! I've known her for six years and she has never. Ever. Not once. Touched my violin."

Blaine stared at him with narrowed eyes, pretending to be deeply hurt, but then he nodded. "Okay. So after we've been friends for _seven_ years I can play it. Yeah?"

Kurt could only giggle again. "Mayyyyyyybe." He socked his fist very gently against Blaine's cheek, intending to pull his hand right back, but Blaine caught it and held it between both of his own, watching Kurt very intently now. Amid another giggle, Kurt asked, "What?" and fluttered his lashes without thinking.

"I want to kiss you," Blaine murmured, brushing his lips lightly over Kurt's knuckles, not breaking their eye contact. "Want to kiss you so bad."

An incredulous smile spread slowly across Kurt's face. "You're drunk, though."

"No I'm not! Not really. Just tipsy. Ish. Are _you_ drunk?" Kurt shook his head even though he wasn't entirely sure. "I've wanted to kiss you all week." Blaine suddenly looked confused. "Have I not been obvious enough about it or something?"

"No, you have, I just..." Telling Blaine about his "no hook-ups" rule and his "no messing around with the boss" rule just seemed so _stupid,_ especially right now, with Blaine so close and blinking at Kurt with his dumb gorgeous eyelashes. "I... I can't think of an excuse. Give me a second."

Blaine sighed, scooted his chair an inch or so nearer to Kurt's, and just looked at him hopefully. Kurt could only whine at him, and Blaine put a finger over his lips, shaking his head, and said quietly, "I want you, though." It was very difficult for Kurt not to kiss the finger pressed to his mouth, and became even harder when Blaine smiled shyly, leaned right into Kurt's ear, and whispered, "Don't you want me?"

"'Course I do," Kurt mumbled, closing his eyes. Blaine's lips had just barely grazed his skin but he'd felt it all the way down to his _toes._ He wasn't feeling pressured at all, just completely magnetized. And then he told himself to just stop thinking so much, to stop worrying about his lame rules, because someone wanted him. Someone smart and sweet and talented and _hot,_ and what did it matter that it would only be this once? You don't just throw chances like that away. 

So he swallowed, took a deep breath, and turned his head to meet Blaine's lips with his own.

It was off-center and a little messy, and Blaine made a startled little sound that gave Kurt pause for a fraction of a second, but then it all evened out. Kurt's mouth opened slightly, all on its own, and Blaine didn't even hesitate before responding, his lips warm and his tongue tasting like the lemons and sugar from the cocktails he'd had. The kiss lasted maybe ten seconds, or ten minutes, Kurt couldn't be sure; he just knew that when they broke apart Blaine had flushed cheeks and a shy smile and twinkling eyes, and Kurt really, really didn't want him to move too far away.

" _So_ worth the wait," Blaine murmured, kissing the corner of Kurt's mouth and then nuzzling his nose against Kurt's cheek. 

Kurt nodded a little, and didn't make either of them wait any longer for a second kiss. They held this one out for a little while, forgetting that they were in a bar that was still half-full and, moreover, not sitting in some dark secluded corner. What did they care who saw? Kurt let himself just get lost in it, smiling against Blaine's mouth when he felt Blaine tugging gently at his bottom lip and not shying away from anything he was offered. It had been weeks since he'd been kissed, and literally _years_ since he'd kissed someone different, and he was soaking it up.

But then, _of course,_ someone in the bar had to cough rather loudly - not an 'excuse me, I can see you and may I remind you that this is a public place' cough, just a normal February-in-a-wet-climate cough - and the sound shook them both back to reality. Blaine sat back a few inches and ran his tongue over his lower lip, smiling serenely, but leaned back in after only a couple of seconds, resting his forehead against Kurt's. "Come upstairs with me?" he asked softly.

Kurt's belly did one of those nifty swoops, and he hoped it wasn't apparent in his light laughter. "Whoo, hold on a second there..." He pulled back to look at Blaine, studying him closely. "What do you want to do up there?"

"Whatever comes naturally," Blaine replied coyly. "It's much more comfortable in my room than down here. Nice soft king-sized bed..." He apparently noticed that Kurt still looked skeptical, because then he said, "We could just make out, if you want. When was the last time you did that?"

Kurt hummed, smiling. "A _long_ time ago."

"Me, too."

They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment, and Kurt sincerely hoped that Blaine was thinking about the rest of his body as well, imagining what it looked like under his clothes, because _he_ certainly was. "Just making out would be very nice, but we don't have to restrict ourselves to that, do we?" Kurt asked lightly. "We're both responsible adults."

"I'm a _very_ responsible adult. I have lots of condoms."

Kurt let out a snort of laughter. "Oh, really? Someone's confident. Do you always travel with lots of them?"

"Hey," Blaine grinned. "You gotta be prepared."

"Well, I'm not going to guarantee yet that any of them will actually get used tonight" - but of course they _would,_ if Kurt had his way - "because five minutes of kissing isn't nearly enough to make me drop trou."

Blaine raised his eyebrows, accepting the challenge, and leaned forward again to place both hands high up on Kurt's thighs, their faces quite close. "I'm very good at many, many things." Then he inched his hands just a little higher, close enough to his crotch for Kurt to worry he that he might start to get hard before he stood up. "You can take your pick, or I can just show you what I'm best at doing."

That settled it. Kurt exhaled slowly, not breaking their eye contact, and nodded. "Let's go, then."

The kissing and conversation had sobered him, or so he thought until he stood up from the table and had to grip the edge of it to steady himself. Blaine had gone to tell the bartender to put their tab on his hotel bill, so luckily he didn't see Kurt's attempt at balance. But Kurt noticed that Blaine was also wobbling slightly as he walked back to the table. _Maybe this isn't such a great idea,_ he thought, even as he was returning Blaine's bright smile. He hooked the strap of his violin case over one shoulder and started to put his messenger bag over the other, but Blaine took it from him courteously. Kurt was about to protest, since only carrying one thing would probably mess up his equilibrium even more, then decided he could deal with it. They leaned into each other a little as they crossed the lobby, which helped, and when Kurt wrapped an arm around Blaine's waist - for extra support only, _of course_ \- both of them were then walking just fine.

Blaine was already making eyes at him again as they waited for an elevator, and as soon as they'd stepped into one and the button for the eighth floor was pressed, he gently pushed Kurt against a wall and kissed him yet again. Kurt grinned against his lips, quickly adjusted his violin case so it wouldn't get caught between his body and the wall, and cradled Blaine's face between his hands, holding him there as he delved his tongue deep into his mouth. The low moan that Blaine let out went straight to Kurt's dick. He broke the kiss after only a few seconds, tipping his head back, and Blaine took the hint and pressed his lips to Kurt's exposed neck, nipping and actually starting to suck at his skin when the elevator bell sounded and the doors slid open. "Which way?" Kurt mumbled, dragging Blaine out into the corridor by the hand, and Blaine pulled him to the left.

They were stumbling a little again, but Kurt thought it was probably due more to eagerness than intoxication. When Blaine stopped at room 817, Kurt stood behind him, slid both arms around his waist, and began kissing the side of his neck as Blaine tried to fit his keycard into the door lock. "Having trouble?" he murmured after a moment, to which Blaine chuckled and said something about _being distracted._ Kurt just smiled and licked at the spot on his neck where he'd been kissing, pulling another of those amazing moans from Blaine, followed by a triumphant "Ha!" when he got the door open at last.

Kurt got one good look at that "nice soft king-sized bed" before Blaine was slipping the strap of his violin case from his shoulder for him and setting it safely out of the way, which Kurt watched to make sure no harm came to it. Then Blaine had him pinned with his back to the door, wasting absolutely no time in diving back into that kiss, and Kurt couldn't have said if his violin was here in the hotel, at home, or in his father's classroom in Salem.

After shrugging out of his tuxedo jacket and dropping it to the floor, Blaine went to work on Kurt's bow tie with slow, sinuous fingers, somehow also caressing his neck and collarbones and upper chest all the while. Kurt was so focused on Blaine's mouth and hands that it took him a minute to realize that Blaine had also snugged a knee between his legs and was pressing and rubbing it against his balls, and Kurt was very glad he had a wall to lean against. Blaine slid the undone tie from around Kurt's neck and let it dangle between his fingers as he cupped Kurt's face in his palms, deepening the kiss even more, licking the inside of his mouth and sucking at his tongue. All Kurt could do was rest his hands at Blaine's hips, moaning into his mouth and thinking _Jesus, we haven't even left the fucking doorway yet._

Blaine broke the kiss at last to run the tip of his tongue over Kurt's chin and down to his neck, tugging the top button of his shirt open to get a a little more skin. Kurt tilted his head against the door and leaned the rest of his body away from it, pressing himself against Blaine, and Blaine took the opportunity to pull Kurt's jacket from his freed shoulders. "God, I've just been staring at you _all week,_ " Blaine mumbled into his neck, and then kissed the same spot again before lifting his head to look at Kurt with half-lidded eyes. "Right there next to me every night, so close. You're so gorgeous, I just can't take it..." Their lips met again and Kurt groaned softly, starting to pull Blaine's tucked-in shirt from the waistband of his pants. Kurt could feel the corners of Blaine's mouth turned up in a smile, knowing why - jackets and bow ties were one thing; shirts were another. _So much for just making out._ Apparently Blaine took this as a green light, because he pressed one more kiss to Kurt's mouth and then leaned back a little to say, "You know what's really been drawing my attention, though?"

"Hmm, my fingers?" Kurt asked, playfully walking them up Blaine's sides under both his tuxedo shirt and the thin white t-shirt underneath.

Blaine smirked. "They're distracting too, but I meant _this._ " He laid his palm directly against Kurt's crotch and let out a pleased little humming sound at how hard he found him. "I've been dying to get a look at it."

Ordinarily Kurt would have turned up his nose at such a crude line - not to mention the audacity of Blaine just _going for it_ without permission - but alcohol and weeks without being touched won out easily. He tilted his hips forward, pressing against Blaine's hand. "You're welcome to look." 

Blaine's smirking smile became a grin and he came back in for another kiss, moaning quietly as Kurt curved his hands around Blaine's back, his palms and fingertips sliding against bare skin. Kurt tried to concentrate on the kiss, because if he focused on what Blaine was doing with his belt buckle and zipper, he would probably embarrass them both. His cock was straining against his underwear as Blaine let his pants fall from around his waist, and when Blaine slipped his hand between the elastic and Kurt's skin, they both let out shuddering sighs of relief. Kurt pulled back from the kiss to drop his eyes, his breathing heavy, and Blaine looked down as well, actually letting out a soft little gasp when he saw what his fingers were wrapped around. 

"I want to suck that," Blaine mumbled, and Kurt wasn't sure if he was even aware he'd said it out loud. He pushed up into the circle of Blaine's fist, biting his lip to keep from just _moaning_ at how good it felt to be touched by someone other than himself. "Can I?" Blaine asked, much more gently than Kurt would have expected, and he punctuated this sudden tenderness with a light kiss to Kurt's jaw. "Please?"

Kurt gritted his teeth, a little afraid to answer verbally since he honestly didn't know what might come out of his mouth if he opened it. Instead, he worked his hands out from under Blaine's shirts to put them on Blaine's shoulders, holding eye contact with him for a few seconds before giving him a firm nudge downward. Blaine smiled gratefully as he followed the silent command, not looking away from Kurt's eyes as he lowered himself to his knees.

He forgot all about not embarrassing himself then. He forgot about being hung over for their matinee concert tomorrow and about how awful it was to be alone in spite of a bad relationship, and he definitely forgot about his rules. None of it mattered a single bit as soon as Blaine sunk his mouth over Kurt's cock, because _fuck._

Kurt let out a shaky breath and gripped Blaine's shoulders as he watched him take almost the entire length, then pull back to press his lips against the tip in a wet kiss and slip them over the head to suck hungrily at it. Then he leaned his head back against the door and closed his eyes, his hips already beginning to roll smoothly toward Blaine's mouth. Blaine hummed around him, lifting up slightly to pull Kurt's boxer briefs down to his knees, and cupped Kurt's ass in both hands, pulling him closer. With a groan, Kurt put one hand on Blaine's head, working his fingers through the gel to free a few more curls so he could fist his hand into his hair. 

"Is this the thing you're best at?" he asked after a few moments, daring to look back down at Blaine. The sight was almost too much. 

Blaine smiled, pulling back to quickly mutter, "More or less," before taking him back into his mouth. He left one hand on Kurt's ass and curled the other around the base of his cock to stroke the lower half while his lips and tongue worked the top with such skill that Kurt soon found himself literally _gasping._ Trying to rock in and out of Blaine's mouth at the same time would have pushed him over the edge in seconds, so he just clutched at Blaine's hair and leaned all of his weight against the door so he wouldn't just slither to the fucking floor.

This was no way to go about this. He wasn't going to let himself come _already._ So as much as it literally pained him to pull his cock out of Blaine's mouth, he did it anyway, whimpering, and nodded toward the bed. "Let's move," he mumbled. "It looks lonely."

Blaine just smiled and kissed the tip of Kurt's dick before standing, then caught Kurt's lips with another kiss as he took him by the hand to help him away from the door. Kurt's feet got a bit tangled in the puddle of pants around his ankles and he bent, chuckling, to get them off all the way, then toed out of his shoes and yanked off his socks. He left a trail of clothing as he moved toward the bed, as did Blaine, and when Kurt dropped his tuxedo shirt to the floor Blaine turned to him and said, "Wait, if we're getting naked let me hang everything up. We have to wear all of this tomorrow, you know."

Nodding, Kurt pulled his undershirt off and handed it to him, then sank onto the edge of the bed and loosely stroked his cock as he watched Blaine gather up all the discarded garments. It was quite endearing, really; the care Blaine was taking with their nice clothes wasn't something Kurt had expected at all. He took good care of his garments in general, but being half-drunk and horny at the moment, it hadn't been a priority, so he was glad Blaine had thought of it. But all thoughts about wrinkles flew out of his head when Blaine stepped out of his boxers - now _that_ was an ass worth waiting for. Kurt bit his lip and tilted his head, staring, and actually sucked in a sharp breath when Blaine bent at the waist to retrieve a jacket that had slipped from his fingers. Blaine heard him and looked around curiously. "I'm just enjoying the view," Kurt said, smiling, and Blaine grinned back at him. 

"I've been told it's rather nice," he said conversationally, twisting his head over his shoulder to try and get a glimpse of his own ass. 

"You were told correctly." Kurt ran the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, picturing how Blaine would look on all fours, knees wide apart so that ass was as open as possible. As soon as Blaine had set the last hanger on the rail in the closet, Kurt said softly, "Come here," and held out his left hand, beckoning Blaine closer. 

He obeyed at once and seemed to know exactly what Kurt wanted; cupping Kurt's upturned face between his palms, he leaned down to kiss him. Kurt still had his right hand around his own cock, but he curled his left arm around Blaine and splayed his fingers against his back, just above the cleft of his ass. They drew the kiss out for long, long moments, with Blaine lowering himself to his knees so slowly that Kurt didn't even realize he was doing it until he felt Blaine's shoulder under his palm instead of the smooth skin of his back, and knew that he was nearly to the floor. 

Blaine kissed down Kurt's neck to his chest, pausing to wrap his lips around a nipple, and settled onto his knees with a soft groan as he pushed Kurt's hand away from his dick and took hold of it himself. He pressed kisses to the insides of Kurt's thighs as he stroked him slowly, and Kurt leaned back onto his hands, watching him with glazed eyes and a slightly open mouth. And when Blaine licked a wide, wet stripe up the underside of his cock, Kurt inhaled deeply, tipped his head back, and closed his eyes. 

Soon, Blaine had his arms curled around Kurt's legs from beneath and was holding them as wide apart as possible, caressing the sensitive skin close to his cock with soft fingertips, and was sucking Kurt's dick like it was his damn job. Kurt couldn't remember ever receiving such an enthusiastic blowjob and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to hold off - he knew he should make Blaine slow down, but it just felt too good to even think of such a tragedy. He tried to distract himself by leaning over to rub Blaine's shoulders and upper back, sliding a hand down his spine and watching his own fingers as they curved over one perfect ass cheek. God, he wanted to fuck that. He _needed_ to. 

Sitting back up, he pushed one hand through Blaine's hair and cupped the other under his jaw to feel it work under his fingers as Blaine sucked. He licked his lips and asked quietly, "Where are those 'lots of condoms'?" Blaine moaned deeply, and Kurt hissed as he pressed his thumb into Blaine's cheek to still him. "You have to let me fuck you," he murmured. "You want me to, right?"

Blaine nodded, his eyes wide, and he slid his mouth away so slowly it was nearly torturous. But to make up for it, he lifted up on his knees to kiss Kurt again right away, and Kurt looped his arms around Blaine's neck to hold him there for a little longer. 

As Blaine went to one of the bags on the dresser, Kurt ran his fingers through his hair, grimacing at its dampness. He wondered briefly what Blaine might say to the suggestion of the two of them sharing a shower, but before he could actually ask, Blaine was coming back to the bed. "Where do you want me?" he asked, his voice low and silky, and dropped an ampoule of lube and a condom next to Kurt. 

"Hands and knees. Right here." Kurt patted the center of the bed, then let his fingers skim down Blaine's thigh as he moved to the spot Kurt had indicated.

He had always been an ass man, and Blaine's was without a doubt one of the best he'd ever seen. As Kurt turned to follow Blaine further onto the bed, he couldn't help letting out a soft, appreciative sound at what he was about to play with. Smooth skin, tight round cheeks... and when he nudged Blaine's knees a little further apart, he sucked in a breath at the incredibly inviting sight it created. He wanted to lean over and bury his mouth into the center of it, but remembered just in time that it wasn't the smartest thing to do with someone he barely knew. Kurt frowned at that thought and concentrated instead on running his hands over Blaine's ass, relishing the soft, warm skin beneath his palms and fingertips. "Gorgeous," he said quietly, and bent to press a kiss to the small of Blaine's back, letting his lips trail down one cheek. 

Blaine hummed in response, the sound fading into a soft sigh as Kurt used his thumbs to open him a little wider. God, this ass was just _crying out_ to be licked, tasted, savored. It hurt to not let that happen. To quell the urge, Kurt lifted up on his knees and moved right in behind Blaine, his cock fitting perfectly into the cleft. Blaine froze for a second, clearly startled, but Kurt leaned over his back and softly told him not to worry, kissing the hollow of his shoulder blade. "I'm not," Blaine whispered, and pushed his hips back against Kurt's body. Kurt groaned and grabbed either side of Blaine's waist, then pressed the heels of his hands into Blaine's cheeks to tighten the space he was slowly thrusting into. 

When he eased into Blaine a few minutes later, Kurt wanted to keep that same slow pace and draw this out for as long as possible, but it was just too good. He'd been having sex at least three times a week, right up until the end, and now after more than three months with nothing except his own hand and this sweet, snug ass that was his to enjoy? There was no way could he go slowly. Blaine didn't seem to mind at all when he began to speed up since his moans increased in volume and he hooked the insteps of both feet over the backs of Kurt's calves, rocking back to meet Kurt's every thrust. Kurt gripped Blaine's hips hard, pulling him all the way back onto his cock so he could give short, hard, shallow strokes, then pushed him down flat onto his stomach to drive deeply in and out of him. Whatever he did, Blaine just begged for more. 

Everything felt great, of course, but when Kurt had Blaine back up on his knees and pulled his upper body back to rest against his own, it took a turn into _incredible._ He shifted so his thighs were resting on his calves and moved Blaine's body with him, pressing him down until he was actually sitting on Kurt's dick, completely bottomed out. "Ride me," he mumbled into Blaine's ear, then kissed the spot just below it, which he now knew was extremely sensitive. Blaine let out an amazing sound and at once began to slide up and down on Kurt's cock. He wrapped his left arm backwards around Kurt's neck and, with Kurt's encouragement, tipped his head back onto Kurt's shoulder. His right hand was busy around his erection, moving in quick, rough strokes, which Kurt simply could not tear his eyes from. Even when he began pressing wet kisses to Blaine's shoulder and the side of his neck, he stayed fixed on Blaine's hand. 

This was what he'd needed - this _closeness._ Being as tightly wrapped with Blaine as possible, being able to see and feel and taste everything about him. It went so far beyond having Blaine's fantastic ass squeezed around him and just using his body however he wanted. He slid both arms around Blaine's waist and just _held_ him, burying his lips into the curve where Blaine's neck met his shoulder and sucking hard, wanting to raise a mark that would still be there when Blaine flew to Boston on Monday morning. He wanted Blaine to _remember_ this.

He waited until the last possible moment, mumbling into Blaine's ear that he was close, so close so close _so close,_ and then urged Blaine back down onto his hands and knees. Sliding out of him was agonizing - and not helped at all by Blaine's whine - but Kurt ground his teeth, peeling off the condom and jerking himself hard and fast. Blaine was writhing under him, still moaning as he kept stroking his own cock. Kurt aimed for Blaine's right cheek, wanting to see his come on that gorgeous ass, and let out a deep, shuddering groan when his release hit, spilling onto Blaine's skin as high up as the center of his back. 

Blaine barely gave him three seconds' recovery time before he was pressing his ass back, grinding it against Kurt's leg as he pleaded for _something,_ just a little bit more. Kurt wasted no time - he thrust two fingers into Blaine's hole and grinned at the sharp arch of Blaine's back. He wanted to reach under Blaine to jerk him off, too, but Blaine seemed to have that well under control and was very close already; if Kurt interfered it would probably just screw up his rhythm. Instead, Kurt fucked him with his fingers as he used his other hand to rub his come into Blaine's skin. Then he leaned over him to place soft kisses to his back and shoulders, and within seconds Blaine was coming too, his breaths coming high and sharp, his entire body shaking. 

Kurt slowly slid his fingers out and smiled as he gave Blaine's ass a gentle pat, then laughed lightly when Blaine just collapsed into the mattress. " _Fuck,_ " Blaine moaned, his voice muffled by the pillow, but at once he turned his head to free his mouth and mumbled, "Come here, lay with me." Kurt didn't even hesitate before sliding alongside him, and Blaine draping his arm heavily over his waist felt completely natural. They just lay quietly for a few minutes, cooling down and settling, and Kurt brushed a few soft kisses over Blaine's cheek and temple, hardly thinking anything of it. The same ease they'd shared all week was present now, as if they'd known each other for years instead of barely six days. And when Blaine spoke again, what he asked didn't surprise Kurt at all, only made him want to grin: "Stay?"

"Hmm," Kurt hummed, moving closer, nuzzling his nose into Blaine's cheek. "Would you like me to?"

Blaine nodded, his eyes still closed. "Falling asleep is always better when somebody's next to you."

"That's very true," Kurt whispered, and began the complicated business of getting the two of them under the covers without having to move too far away from each other.

 

Later, he wouldn't be sure which of them woke up the other in the middle of the night with a deep, dark kiss. He wouldn't be sure which of them reached for the other's cock first, or if it was Blaine who asked to be fucked again or Kurt himself who asked if he could. It didn't matter. 

Kurt wanted to see Blaine's face this time, so he kept Blaine on his back and kissed him as he slid slowly in and out of him. He pulled one of Blaine's legs up to hook over his shoulder, stretching him wide, and was still able to lean close enough to kiss him. Blaine tugged at Kurt's hair and clutched at his back and moaned his name over and over again as they rocked together, breathing each other in. He managed to wait for Blaine this time, holding out until Blaine whimpered that he was about to come before pulling out of him, and they stroked each other with Kurt still on top of him, both coming onto Blaine's stomach and sharing another kiss right in the middle of it.

And as Kurt curled back into Blaine's side, already almost asleep again, he wondered how quickly he'd get fired if he not only didn't show up for the matinee, but also held the conductor hostage in bed all afternoon.

 

He wasn't sure where he was when he woke up a few hours later. The bed was bigger than his own, the feather duvet was the wrong color, and there were too many pillows. He _was_ alone, which made sense, but he could also hear the shower running, and when he frowned in confusion, it hurt his head something fierce. 

Then he remembered. Drinks. Kisses. Sex. Amazing, _amazing_ sex with Blaine. _Blaine._

Kurt groaned, turning his face into the pillow to muffle the sound. How could he have done this? Was he really so lonely? So _desperate?_ He hadn't hooked up like this since college, for God's sake, and even then there had been a good chance of at least spotting the other guy around campus once in a while. But Blaine lived... shit, where _did_ he live? Blaine had never actually told him. Iowa? Boston? Somewhere completely different? It didn't matter; wherever it was, Portland was not it. That made all of this a huge, stupid, incredibly self-indulgent mistake. 

Morning afters were always so fucking messy. It was either shy, fumbling plans to get together another time (that never actually happened), or clothes yanked on in haste and gruff goodbyes. Kurt hated both. Sure, he would be seeing Blaine again this afternoon, but the principle problem was still there - he was _leaving_ tomorrow. Probably never to return, since he was too talented and most likely too in demand to worry about coming back to work for their silly little symphony when there were at least 30 others more prestigious in the US alone.

Even if Kurt had wanted to hang around, he had too much to do before the afternoon concert. Shower, coffee, steaming his tuxedo because he knew it probably smelled like sex and champagne cocktails in spite of Blaine's care in hanging it up, lunch with his father... his _father._ Kurt groaned again and dragged a pillow over his face this time, pressing it down hard enough to stifle his breathing for a few seconds. How could he have forgotten? His dad always drove up for Sunday matinees; they had lunch beforehand and then a long dinner after. _Shit._ And even though Kurt was a grown man now, he still felt strange when he saw his father so soon after having sex with someone, so that would just make today extra special.

The shower suddenly cut off and Kurt jerked his head to the right, staring at the bathroom door. Would he have enough time to get dressed, scribble a note to Blaine, and get out of here before Blaine emerged? God, he was such an asshole for even considering it, but the thought of having to face Blaine when he felt this vile was just... no. He sat up slowly, whining as his head throbbed harder, and dangled his legs over the side of the bed, waiting until he felt steady enough to stand and praying it wouldn't take too long.

It did.

Blaine was whistling as he came out of the bathroom, wearing nothing except a towel around his slim hips. He grinned when he saw Kurt and raked a hand through his wild, damp curls. "Good morning, sleepyhead. I wanted to wait and shower with you, if you wanted, but I didn't have the heart to wake you and it was getting late."

Kurt squinted at the clock on the night table. Nine-thirty-five, fuck fuck fuck. He didn't even know what the bus schedule was on Sunday morning; he was never downtown at this time of day on the weekend. He bit his lip and looked back up at Blaine, bravely attempting a smile, but he knew it paled in comparison to Blaine's.

"I always oversleep when I drink too much," he said, hoping his tone was as light and playful as he wanted it to be.

"Hangover?" Blaine asked sympathetically, moving closer to the bed.

Kurt shrugged, then held his thumb and index finger a couple inches apart. "At least it's cloudy. If the sun was shining I'd be in worse trouble."

Blaine seemed puzzled by that and Kurt sighed inwardly. Apparently he would have to spell it out. "I have to go, my dad is coming up for lunch before the concert."

"Oh," Blaine said, his voice soft and - dammit - disappointed. 

Kurt winced, tilting his head to the side as he held out a placatory hand. "I should have told you last night," he murmured, feeling a little better when Blaine slid his fingers between his own. Even though he knew he shouldn't, Kurt put his other hand on Blaine's hip and gently pulled him closer, and when he was standing directly in front of Kurt, he laid his cheek against Blaine's belly. "Thank you for last night, by the way," he continued, hoping like hell the words didn't sound as hollow to Blaine as they did to him. He pressed a light kiss to Blaine's stomach and carefully leaned his head back to look up at him. "I really needed that."

"I hope you _wanted_ it, too," Blaine said quietly, pushing his fingers slowly through Kurt's hair.

"Of course I did." But his stomach had lurched at Blaine's words, because Blaine must have known what he was thinking. _It's probably written all over my face,_ he thought bitterly. Wanting to get away from that awkward moment, he kissed Blaine's belly again and gave his hand a squeeze before letting it go. "I talked to my father earlier this week and raved about you, so I know he'll want to meet you after the concert. Would that be okay?"

"Sure," Blaine replied, but the smile he gave Kurt then was only a shadow of his usual sunny one. 

_Jesus, I gotta get out of here,_ Kurt thought wildly. _He looks like somebody just kicked his dog._ He stood up and kissed Blaine on the forehead, and then, because that just felt ridiculous, again on the cheek. "I'll see you in a few hours?" he asked softly, running the pad of his index finger along the line of Blaine's jaw. 

Blaine's smile was a little wider as he nodded, and Kurt felt better. Not awesome, but better. He was glad Blaine disappeared back into the bathroom to brush his teeth while he quickly got dressed - in his street clothes, because he was _not_ going to do the walk of shame in his fucking tuxedo. He debated knocking on the bathroom door to say goodbye face-to-face, but he chickened out and simply called a farewell from the hotel room doorway, and was out in the hall before Blaine could reply.

 

Thank goodness for lunch with his father, because if Kurt had had to face the entire orchestra again without that buffer, _everyone_ would have known something was weird. Well, most of them probably assumed he and Blaine were screwing already, so he supposed it didn't really matter. And Blaine was the consummate professional, treating Kurt exactly as he had all week with the same smiles and polite praise and encouragement. If Blaine looked at him a little more than really necessary during the concert, Kurt just told himself that it was no different than how often he'd been looking at him in rehearsals. 

Sunday matinees were a totally different crowd than Saturday evening ones; for one thing, no donors that Kurt had to suck up to afterward. He was able to find his dad fairly soon and walked him over to several of the symphony players to say hello, most of whom he had met before. He was not looking forward to introducing him to Blaine, and waited until his father asked before even starting to look around for him. "He's terrific," Burt said knowingly, and Kurt suppressed a smile. In spite of having a son who had been playing the violin for 23 years, his father knew nothing about music beyond what sounded nice to his ears, but he could still tell a good conductor from a great one. 

"Mr. Anderson?" Kurt said formally as they stepped up behind Blaine. He turned, already smiling - he must have known Kurt's voice - and yes, there was that brilliant smile Kurt had been gifted with all week. It hurt his heart a little to see it now. "My father, Burt Hummel," he said, and then immediately bit his lip as he watched Blaine and his dad shake hands.

"It's such a pleasure, Mr. Hummel," Blaine said warmly, grasping Burt's hand with both of his own. "Your son is among the best I've had the opportunity to work with. This week has been an absolute joy." 

His father could be a cynical man - spending 70 hours a week with high school kids will do that to a person - but even he could tell at once that Blaine's sincerity was real. "Good, I'm glad he didn't give you too hard of a time."

"Not at all," Blaine laughed, glancing quickly at Kurt. "He was incredibly helpful. Among other things."

_Oh, God._ Kurt tried desperately to think of something to say, anything at all to keep his father from starting to question what the hell Blaine had been implying, but luckily Rachel appeared from nowhere to tackle Burt with a fierce hug. Kurt smiled at them with a mixture of gratitude and genuine affection, wondering if Rachel's BFF senses had been tingling and brought her to the rescue.

His relief was short-lived, though. Blaine touched his arm gently and murmured, "Got a second?"

Kurt closed his eyes briefly, but could think of no reason to refuse. He cleared his throat as he followed Blaine a few steps away, the calm that had settled over him since meeting up with his dad a few hours ago rapidly dissolving.

"Thanks for bringing him over," Blaine began, his voice low. "I wanted to approach the two of you myself but wasn't sure if it would be proper or not... anyway." He shook his head slightly, as if to clear it, and gave Kurt a tentative half-smile. "I was wondering if you wanted to get together again tonight? I have to be at the airport at five in the morning, so you probably wouldn't want to stay over, but..." He trailed off, looking so hopeful that Kurt wanted to just _hit_ him for putting him in this position.

"I would, but we have dinner plans," he said, gesturing to his father, who was now patiently listening to Rachel jabbering away about something, wearing a bemused smile with his arms crossed over his chest. "It's... we always do this for Sunday matinees," he went on, hating that he felt this need to explain why he didn't want to have more incredible yet meaningless sex with Blaine. "Lunch, concert, dinner, then he drives back home to Salem and we both conk out by nine o'clock, like the old men we are."

"I should have realized you'd be having dinner with him too, I apologize," Blaine said quickly, his cheeks slightly flushed. "Wow, I really shouldn't have waited so long, should I?" Kurt wasn't 100% sure what he meant by that, but didn't really want him to explain. He just wanted to get away from this awful situation and drown himself in a bottle of Pinot Noir.

"No problem," he replied quietly, with as much dignity as he could muster. "Listen, I should go, we--"

But Blaine cut him off. "Of course, of course. Keep in touch, okay Kurt?" He held out his hand, and Kurt shook it without thinking, an ingrained gesture. "Text me, or email me, or send me a Facebook message, even." Blaine laughed awkwardly, and Kurt gave him a pained smile, nodding. "And seriously, thank you for a great week. I'll be talking you guys up all over the place, you can count on it."

Touched in spite of everything, Kurt gave his hand a squeeze before letting it go, and executed a little wave that was only sort of cheesy before turning to get back to his father. And Rachel, dear Rachel, who he both loved and wanted to strangle at the moment for getting him into this mess. He would have to tell her everything, he remembered suddenly, and grimaced at the thought. But by the time he stepped up to them, he'd plastered on a smile that neither of them would be able to tell wasn't forced, no matter how well they knew him.

 

When Kurt woke up the next morning in his own bed, the clock said seven-twenty. Blaine was already long gone, probably flying over Missouri by now. Kurt stared at his phone on the night table, afraid to look at it since there was a 50/50 chance Blaine had sent him a goodbye text. He didn't know if he could handle that.

But when he picked up the phone, the screen was blank. No texts, no voicemails, no emails. He breathed a sigh of relief, refusing to acknowledge the faint disappointment he also felt. Blaine was _gone._ It was done. Maybe they'd exchange a few messages, maybe they wouldn't. It didn't matter to Kurt either way; he would never see Blaine again.

Or at least, that's what he thought then.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Symphony AU. Kurt is the 27-year-old first violinist and concertmaster of the Oregon Symphony Orchestra in Portland. Blaine arrives in town to guest conduct their concert of Holst's The Planets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Livejournal January-March 2012. Masterpost: http://colfer.livejournal.com/47608.html

**Chapter 4 - "Bruscamente"**

 

Four months later.

"A sabbatical? Are you serious?"

Sue Sylvester took off her glasses and narrowed her eyes at him. "Yes, Kurt. I wouldn't joke about this."

Kurt just stared at her, then dazedly shook his head. "Some warning would have been nice."

"Oh, don't give me that. You know as well as I do that Schuester's behavior has been erratic for weeks. You had to know this was coming."

"He's going through a really bad divorce..." Kurt didn't really know why he was trying to make excuses for Will. He wasn't terribly fond of their resident conductor, but he'd worked with the man for most of his time in the symphony, and he guessed he felt _some_ loyalty.

She snorted. "He got caught cheating with the ginger in Administration who's just as crazy as his wife. If you're going to cheat, at least do it with someone worth the risk. I say he got what was coming to him." Kurt winced slightly, but he didn't entirely disagree with her. "Divorce or no divorce, the shouting match with Mr. Puckerman in May was the last straw. He's bringing his personal issues to work and I'm tired of dealing with it. He is on sabbatical for the upcoming season." 

Kurt took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay. So aside from a few guests, it will just be you and Dustin conducting for us?" The answer would have been obvious if he worked with any other symphony but this one. Sue had been looking for a reason to fire Dustin, their pops conductor, for at least six months; she allowed him as little freedom as possible. And Sue herself only conducted five or six concerts per season. With her abrasive personality and the giant chip on her shoulder from being one of the very few female musical directors in the world, one would think she would flaunt her position and conduct as many as she could, but she preferred to sit on her throne and dole out the work to others.

"I'll handle a few and Dustin will do less."

He frowned slightly. "May I ask what you're going to do, then?"

"I'd like to bring in a replacement for Will. Someone to come in, stay here for the majority of the season, and cover everything Schuester would have done. Except for engagements they already have scheduled, of course. We'll work around those."

"That's going to be tough." Quality conductors had work lined up many months in advance; finding someone good enough for Sue's standards on this sort of notice might be close to impossible. "Why only one? Why not just have a rotation?"

"I said 'replacement'. I'd prefer that Will didn't come back," she said coolly. "Whoever it is will be doing a season-long audition, but they won't know it."

Kurt looked away, telling himself he mustn't shake his head or roll his eyes. Typical Sue: outlandish, bordering on ridiculous, practically illogical. This latest experiment had at least a 75% chance of backfiring, just like most of her grand ideas, but she always found a way to pick herself back up - and to not allow the symphony to suffer too badly in the process, which was admirable.

"I've compiled a list of possibles," she went on, extracting a piece of paper from a folder and studying it. Kurt didn't expect her to hand it to him - that she was even _telling_ him about her plans was more than most concertmasters would get. He knew he would have no say in the decision of who the guinea pig would be. "Almost everyone on here has come in to guest for us before. Still in the process of contacting them all, but I should have it whittled down to five or so by the end of next week. Maybe a little later because of July 4th." 

Kurt stared at the back of the paper, suddenly wishing he could snatch it out of her hands and scan it for one name in particular that he just _knew_ was there. Seeing it would be both terrifying and thrilling, and he wouldn't know if he wanted it to be crossed out or circled. He could feel Sue looking at him and quickly shifted his eyes up to hers, smiling faintly. "End of next week? That's great."

"Is there someone in particular you'd like to cast a vote for?" 

He couldn't tell if she was being serious or not. Either way, he wouldn't tell the truth. "Nope," he replied, shaking his head. "You're the boss; it's your call. And you know me. I can work with anybody." That wasn't completely accurate, but at least he could fake it.

"Well, whoever it ends up being, I'll throw you a bone and make sure he's a handsome devil."

 

"I'm sorry, I still just can't believe you're dating your mechanic."

"He's an _automobile technician,_ Kurt. He went to school for it."

Despite both of them working much less in summer, Kurt and Rachel didn't see each other nearly as often as they did during the rest of the year. They both took the opportunity to spend time with friends _outside_ of the local classical music scene. It was a refreshing change of pace. 

They still exchanged several texts per week, though, and got together for either lunch or dinner twice a month without fail. It had been at their last lunch that Rachel had first mentioned the tall drink of water at the shop where she'd taken her car in for an oil change, and things had clearly progressed quickly because two days ago, when they were _supposed_ to have dinner, she had asked Kurt if they could reschedule for a lunch instead because of a date with him. Since neither "bros before hoes" or "chicks before dicks" would really work for their friendship, Kurt had let it pass.

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that job!" Kurt said defensively, stabbing at a shrimp on his plate. "It's just not the job I'd expect from someone you dated." He gestured toward Rachel with his fork, butter dripping from the end of the shrimp. "You're tiny and sophisticated and, you know, _refined_ and stuff. Look at you, you're wearing a string of pearls on a lunch date with your gay best friend. And this guy-- what's his name again?"

"Finn," she replied dreamily.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Right, Finn's a greasemonkey. Probably spends his days talking about football and... four-barrel carburetors." He ignored Rachel's burst of giggles at this very foreign term coming out of his mouth. "And he's very tall, especially compared to you. It's an interesting picture, that's all." He finally bit his shrimp in half, watching her with narrowed eyes.

To his surprise, her reaction was quite calm. "I don't know about the football stuff and I don't care, because he's always a complete gentleman when he's with me."

"Oh, really." Kurt's tone was dry, and the words weren't a question.

"Yes, really!" That got her flared up a tiny bit, which Kurt took as a good sign. "Always holding the door open for me, pulling out my chair before we sit down... and he even brought me flowers the other night." Rachel stared at him haughtily, as if challenging him, but her expression softened almost at once. "Look, I know you're just being the amazing best friend and looking out for me. Trust me, this is a good one."

"So when do I get to take a look at him?"

She looked startled. "I-- whenever you like, I guess. Take your car in. I'm sure it must need _something_ even if you hardly ever drive it." Kurt just hummed at her, and she sighed, exasperated. "What's the matter with you today? Is it Trent?"

"Ugh." Kurt hastily shoved another shrimp into his mouth. "Can we just not?"

"Still no spark, huh?" Rachel asked, suddenly sympathetic. 

"Less than zero."

"You should just break it off with him, then."

Kurt sighed, sitting back in his chair and staring at his half-empty plate, tapping the tines of his fork into the small puddle of butter and garlic. "Five dates is probably enough, right?" Trent was sweet and earnest, but Kurt just felt nothing at all when he looked at him. And his kisses were too wet. "Yes," he said, answering his own question. "Five is plenty. We're supposed to have dinner tomorrow, but I'll call him and cancel."

"Please let him down gently. We don't want another Rory incident."

Groaning, Kurt waved a hand at her as if to ward off the very idea. Rory, the last guy he'd dated ( _tried to date_ ) before Trent, had actually broken down and cried when Kurt told him he didn't think things were going to work out. Rachel had been hauled out of bed very early the next morning for multiple mimosas to help Kurt forget how horrifying it had been.

A sudden thought came to him that cheered him right up. "Speaking of letting people down gently," he said lightly. "If you're still dating this Finn guy when September rolls around and we get back to work, Noah's not going to be happy."

"Noah," Rachel repeated darkly. " _When_ is he going to get the picture? We went out _once._ And once was more than enough."

"You finally agreed to go out with him after you let him drool over you for half a season," Kurt corrected, smirking into his water glass. She picked a crouton out of the remains of her salad and flicked it across the table at him in retaliation. Kurt hid a smile. Okay, so she wasn't _completely_ refined. "Right, no dessert for you."

"That's fine," she retorted. "I bought loganberries at the Farmers Market yesterday and I still have some at home."

Kurt whined softly. "I want _chocolate_ though."

"Nobody said anything about _you_ not getting dessert!"

But of course he didn't, because he would have felt guilty and tried to wheedle Rachel into sharing it with him anyway. 

After splitting the check, they stepped out into the bright, hot July afternoon. They both slid on their sunglasses - Rachel's were very fashionably oversized. She smiled up at Kurt, squinting even with her shades. "Say hello to pretty Quinn kitty for me. Oh, next time we should do dinner at your house, so I can see her. Tell her I'll be over to play with her soon, okay? And I'll bring her some new mice."

Kurt chuckled, nodding, and embraced her. "She's still ignoring all the mice you've already given her, but I think she'll come around soon."

"It's only been a month," Rachel replied, her voice slightly muffled in Kurt's shoulder. "Of course you could just give her to me..."

Laughing, Kurt pulled away. "I don't care how many times you pretend to ask, you're not getting her." He still wasn't able to admit it out loud, but he knew that Rachel knew the truth: he'd adopted the cat for companionship, and he needed her.

He squeezed Rachel's hand and started to open his mouth to say a final goodbye when his phone began ringing in his pocket. "Hang on..." He cupped his hand around the phone so he could see the screen in the sunshine, and made a face as he read it. "It's the boss lady, I gotta take it." Rachel waved a dismissive hand as if to say 'no problem' and stood on her toes to press a swift kiss to Kurt's cheek before turning away to head for her car. 

"Hello, Ms. Sylvester," Kurt said politely. Although they had known each other for nearly nine years, he rarely called her by her first name - out of respect both for her status and because she was his elder. 

"Kurt. I'm glad I caught you."

He smiled as he began to slowly walk in the direction of the MAX station two blocks down. "That must mean you have good news."

"I do indeed. Found our guy."

"Wonderful. I hope it wasn't too taxing?"

"You know me, I like a challenge. Anyway, I just got off the phone with him sealing the deal, and I wanted to let you know right away since he asked about you. Whether or not you were still with us, I mean." She paused for a beat, and in that instant, Kurt felt a rock settle into the pit of his stomach. "It seemed to me as if your being here was the deciding factor for him."

_Shit shit **shit.**_ Kurt swallowed hard, his steps slowing. "Oh, really?" he asked, trying his best to keep his voice light. "Who?" But he already knew. His gut was rarely wrong.

"Blaine Anderson," Sue replied matter-of-factly, and Kurt closed his eyes, lurching to a stop.

He knew she was waiting for some sign of recognition from him, some sound, _something,_ but his throat was completely locked. "Do you... not recall him?" she asked after a few seconds, sounding confused and a tad annoyed by his silence.

"I-- yes! Sorry." Kurt cleared his throat painfully. "Just took me a second to remember. Dark hair. Young. Good, though."

"Yes, very good," Sue said slowly, and he could picture the frown on her face right now. "Very nice kid with a bright future. We're lucky to get him for this. He has four confirmed dates in other places between now and next May that we'll have to work around, but he indicated that there were more on the line and it was a good thing I caught him when I did."

She probably rambled for a little longer, but Kurt barely heard any of it. He had his eyes open now and had resumed walking, stumbling a couple of times and drawing odd looks from other people on the sidewalk. He just _knew_ this was going to happen. As soon as Sue had started talking about combing through past guest conductors, something told him that this was where they'd end up. Blaine had made quite an impression on everyone involved with the symphony back in February; the orchestra had responded very well to him and the administration team had nothing but praise for how easy he was to work with. He was an up-and-comer, charismatic, with an arresting style and buckets of talent - and of course, he fit the "handsome devil" bill to a T. Sue hadn't just mentioned that for Kurt's sake; it was only natural to want a good-looking face to help draw in the crowds. 

All of a sudden, Kurt wished Rachel hadn't left him yet. She was the only one who would understand what he was going through at the moment. But he wouldn't call her, at least not right away. He just needed to get home.

"...think he'll be here in mid-September. Probably put him up at the Heathman, much better than the Hilton for such a long stay. If I had time, I'd try to find him a studio or something. Maybe after Christmas." Then, with barely a pause or change in tone, Sue said, "Kurt, if you don't say something soon I'm going to think I've made a mistake here."

"What? No, sorry, I was just listening." His voice was more high-pitched than usual and he cleared his throat again, wishing he had some water. "You haven't made a mistake at all. I definitely remember him."

"And you think he'll work out well?"

"Absolutely."

Sue's tone softened then. "Good. Because like I said, he asked about you specifically. Maybe my brain is just so bogged down with Schuester's bullshit, but at first I thought it was because the two of you had some sort of altercation. Then I said yes, and he just started gushing up a storm."

In spite of his apprehension, Kurt smiled, but with difficulty. God, what a mess. "That's very flattering."

"Yes, well, I know how lucky I am to have you, so I wasn't surprised. And I want to keep you happy." 

That, right there, was the main reason why Kurt continued to put up with Sue's eccentricities. She was a tough old bitch, but the two of them shared a great deal of mutual respect and worked well together. He sighed, and when he felt his eyes watering slightly he knew it wasn't from squinting in the sunlight. "Thank you, Sue," he said quietly, using her first name to demonstrate how touched he was. 

"You got it. Talk to you soon."

Kurt's hand was shaking slightly as he ended the call and slid the phone back into his pocket. He had reached the MAX station and sank onto one of the benches - the train was due in just a couple of minutes, but he needed to sit.

_Why_ hadn't he prepared himself better for this? As soon as Sue told him this plan of hers, he should have bucked up the courage and contacted Blaine. It would have been the perfect window. He could have made up some story about being busy and apologized for not keeping in touch; hell, he could have even lied about having a new boyfriend that was taking up most of his time. But he hadn't done anything. He'd just pushed the situation out of his mind, telling himself he'd cross the bridge when - or if - he came to it. But he should have known better.

The transit train slid to a stop in front of the station and Kurt climbed on, tucking himself into a corner seat. During the 20-minute ride to the stop near his house, he ignored the rest of the passengers and, for the first time in many weeks, made himself think back over his brief and clumsy correspondence with Blaine after he had left Portland.

Blaine's personality and obvious eagerness to keep in touch had led Kurt to believe that he would be the one to make the first step. Every day, he expected to check his phone and see a text from Blaine, or to see his number pop up with a call, or to open his email and find a message there from him. But nothing ever happened. Kurt's guilt for brushing him off the way he had that Sunday after they'd slept together deepened, a sharp twist in his stomach that never really left, even when he went a few hours without thinking about it. Rachel eventually stopped asking if he'd heard from Blaine, and since she was the only person aside from the two men who knew what had happened, Kurt only had himself to blame when the thought of Blaine crossed his mind. He felt _awful._

About a month after Blaine had left, Kurt had acquired a new student: a 12-year-old firecracker named Santana who was switching from viola to violin "because viola sucks". The reminder was almost too much to bear, but Kurt put it to good use. Typing as quickly as possible so he couldn't change his mind, he sent Blaine a short email about her, just a friendly, this-made-me-think-of-you message, and he hit send before any second thoughts could form. Then he'd sat back heavily in his chair, actually shaking. This could go one of three ways. Blaine could recognize the email for what it was and respond in an equally cordial manner, he might ignore it entirely, or he might - _might_ \- make Kurt feel even worse by replying with a negative tone. Kurt sincerely doubted it would be the latter, though. What little he knew of Blaine didn't point toward that at all, but it still could happen. 

As he'd expected - and hoped - Blaine sent back a politely and playfully hurt message ( _"I hope you at least told her that you know of one viola player who thinks it's the greatest thing ever!"_ ), and added a quick note at the end that he was glad to hear from Kurt. With the ice now broken, the two of them exchanged a few more emails, nothing too personal or even terribly interesting, just tiptoeing around the edges of both. Neither of them mentioned Blaine returning to Portland, or even brought up the idea of talking on the phone. Kurt didn't think hearing each other's voices would serve much purpose, and it might actually throw another wrench into an already precarious situation. 

The whole problem was too confusing for Kurt to really parcel out in his head for a while. There was the general grossness he felt about hooking up with Blaine - not Blaine in particular, just the act of hooking up bothered him - and then the shame over the way he'd treated him afterward. That was entirely Kurt's own fault and had nothing to do with Blaine, it hadn't been Blaine's fault that he'd given in to an impulse and a need to be touched and to feel wanted. Sleeping with Blaine like that had reminded him so much of the way he and Sebastian had gotten together, just meaningless sex, even with the two of them actually knowing each other for more than a couple of hours beforehand. Kurt couldn't stand the way that felt. He had finally washed his hands of his relationship with Sebastian, was finally ready to move on, and then he'd just done the same thing all over again. 

And then there was that strangely deep connection between himself and Blaine that was there as soon as they'd met. It hadn't _developed,_ it was simply _there._ It took quite a while for Kurt to come to terms with that, and he knew perfectly well that it was the reason why he hadn't taken to any of the five men he'd been out with since Blaine had been here. None of them were Blaine. 

Add to this the facts that Blaine _lived in fucking Des Moines, Iowa_ and that he traveled constantly for work and that he was probably on the precipice of a major conducting career, and no, of course it would never work between them. Kurt couldn't deal with all of that, and even if he'd wanted to, he wouldn't know how. 

One night in early May, Rachel had called him just after midnight, upset after a lousy date. He'd told her to come over so he could make her some chocolate chip pancakes, and she had asked what sort of wine went best with those. They ended up doing more drinking than eating, as usual, and she had asked about Blaine out of the blue. They were still emailing about once a week, but Kurt was starting to get itchy fingers and wanted to come up with some way to just quit talking to him - it wasn't going anywhere, and the longer they talked the more he wished it would. 

_What makes you think you're the only one?_ Rachel had asked, tipsy and sullen and suddenly suspicious. Kurt had frowned at her in confusion. She'd struggled to sit up and explained what she meant: this whole business of Blaine breezing into town, charming the socks off of everyone, and then screwing Kurt the night before he left seemed very shady to her. What if he did this in every city he visited? What if he had a guy in every port? He'd never given any indication that he wanted anything more, at least not explicitly. Rachel had continued to babble in this vein for several minutes, plied with another glass of wine, and Kurt just sat silently, taking it all in and becoming more convinced that she was right. How could he have been so stupid? 

After Rachel passed out in his guest bedroom, Kurt had blearily checked his email. A new message from Blaine was waiting. He stared at his inbox for a long time with his stomach twisted into hard, tight knots, and finally deleted the message without reading it. There had been no contact between them since then.

 

When Kurt got home, Quinn was sitting in the middle of the living room waiting for him and gave him a soft, prim meow in greeting. "Hello, beautiful," he murmured, dropping his keys into the bowl by the front door and going right to her. She purred happily as she rubbed against his legs and nuzzled the top of her head against his jaw when he picked her up. "I've had a crappy afternoon and I need some lovin', so come take care of me." Quinn just purred louder, as if she could actually understand what he'd said. It had taken a little time, but she was apparently now in tune with his emotions and knew her job. 

He had adopted her about six weeks ago - the very next day after Rachel had come over for those late night sympathy pancakes. As soon as Rachel had left Kurt had driven up to the Humane Society, determined to go home with a pet. It was a rash decision, spurred by self-hatred and a need for... something, he didn't know exactly what. Just _something._ He was lonely, and a warm, living body curled up next to him at night would be lovely, no matter if it was smaller than a human's. Quinn was the first cat he saw, a beautiful Russian blue who had been abandoned by her owners after the neighborhood tomcat had knocked her up. She had given birth a few weeks before and her kittens had all been adopted, leaving her even more alone than she had been. She was scared and haughty, but it only took one look into those big green eyes for Kurt to fall completely in love. "We can help each other out," he had whispered to her, and at last she'd relaxed in his arms, tilting her head back to stare up at him. He'd kissed her nose, and she had purred.

And he certainly needed her help today. She rested comfortably in his arms as he carried her over to his favorite chair, and when he sank into it with a deep sigh, she resumed her purring, turning to face him and beginning to knead gently at his chest. "It's just such a mess," Kurt mumbled, tilting his head forward to rest lightly against Quinn's. She let him, her paws still moving steadily. It felt warm and soothing, and ordinarily her kneading would lull him into a state of utter calm, but right now he needed something more.

With another sigh, he carefully set Quinn aside on the arm of the chair and stood up. She let out a melodious, inquisitive meowing sound, and when he looked down at her, he could have sworn she was frowning at him. "I'll be back, just a minute."

His violin was the only thing that would help, he was sure of it. When he returned to the living room with it, Quinn was still sitting on the arm of the chair, so he decided it would be best to play while standing up. He'd knock her off with his elbow otherwise, especially with the speed of the piece he wanted to do.

" _Summer,_ third movement," he said softly. Vivaldi's _Spring_ received most of the love, but Kurt preferred _Summer,_ especially when he was agitated. 

No tuning was necessary since he'd just played that morning. He simply took a deep breath, flexed his fingers, raised his bow, and dove right in - there was no other way to do it with this piece. No futzing around. You either went for it 100%, or you sat the fuck down. 

Fingers flying, wrists snapping, hair falling into his eyes, Kurt played as he never had before. All of his frustration, the sick feeling of worry roiling in his stomach, his guilt, his _anger_ at letting a man get to him like this, a stupid _man_ \- he poured it all out onto the strings. It was a fast and furious piece to begin with, perfect for venting, and thrilling to get correct.

Once wasn't enough. He flung his head back to get his hair out of his eyes, armed the light sheen of sweat from his forehead, and began again, even more fiercely this time. He'd seen video of himself playing this piece and knew that his face always twitched like crazy, but he didn't care. It was impossible _not_ to. He paced the floor as his bow darted over the strings and his fingers began to cramp, but still he played. The third time, he went even faster, ignoring the protesting of his fingertips and the bow hairs that began to come loose. He _needed_ this. This was something that he _could_ control.

Four times. Five times. He roamed the house, the music echoing through the hallways. Six times. He would need to get his bow restrung tomorrow. No problem. Seven times. Better and better. Eight times. Best.

After the ninth playing, his right arm ached too badly for him to even raise the bow. Kurt flopped onto the sofa, protecting the violin against his stomach, and rolled his head to the left to look at Quinn, who still hadn't moved. "What'd you think?" he asked her, panting for breath. 

She just stared at him, her tail swishing lazily back and forth. After a moment, she closed her eyes and turned her head away from him.

"Whatever," Kurt scoffed. " _I_ feel awesome now." 

 

He waited two full days before contacting Blaine. He didn't really want to, but avoiding it altogether would be both rude and stupid. Two days was still soon enough to be polite, but not so quickly as to appear too eager, or to give the impression that everything was actually just fine and dandy between them. The message itself needed to strike just the right tone: affable, but not too enthusiastic, because then it would sound insincere. Kurt agonized over the exact wording for half an hour before he was finally satisfied.

_A little birdie named Sue told me that we'll be seeing you in our fair city again soon. Hopefully the rain won't drive you out of here by Christmas. Congrats on the position :)_

Blaine's response came just a few hours later:

_Yes! I'm really excited, for several reasons. And don't worry, I can handle a little rain._

_See you soon!_

There was no need for him to email Blaine back since he'd only sent the message out of professional courtesy, but that mention of "several reasons" put Kurt on edge. He toyed with the idea of asking Blaine to elaborate and decided to just let it lie. He had a pretty good idea of what Blaine had meant, anyway.

And then, there was nothing to do but wait. 

 

On September 15th, two days after Blaine arrived back in Portland and two days before the symphony's first rehearsal of the season, the number that Kurt had been expecting (and dreading) popped up on his phone. He stared at it menacingly, thinking about just letting it go to voicemail. _Don't be a coward,_ he told himself, rolling his eyes and snatching up the phone. "Hello?" As if the call had come up as Unknown and he _didn't_ know precisely who was on the other end.

"Hi, Kurt." There it was. That warm, honeyed voice was impossible to mistake. "It's Blaine. I hope it's okay to call, I wasn't sure..."

"Why wouldn't it be okay?" Kurt asked pleasantly, hoping very much that his tone hid the grimace he was wearing. "Hi, Blaine."

"Hi," Blaine said again, laughing softly this time. "Um... yeah, hi. How are you?"

"Oh, I can't complain." God, was he going to have to sit through ten minutes of small talk now? He didn't think he could bear it. "I take it you got in okay?"

"Oh yeah, yeah. Everything went smoothly and none of my stuff got lost, surprisingly enough."

"Lucky you."

Blaine hummed quietly, then said, "And it's not raining!"

"Just wait," Kurt said, unable to hold back a smile. "Give it another six weeks or so and you'll forget what a sunny day even looks like."

Blaine laughed again, a bright sound that Kurt couldn't help being moved by. _Damn_ him. "I'm sure it can't be as bad as you're making it out to be. Don't you want me to stay?"

Seriously, _damn him._ Kurt chose to deflect the question by asking one of his own. "So, what's up?" Brisk and to the point. Why are you calling? What do you want with me?

"Actually," Blaine replied, his volume lowering a little. "I was wondering if we could get together. This afternoon, or tomorrow, if today's no good for you."

Kurt's heart had begun to race. He couldn't decipher the meaning of the request. Get together for _what_ exactly? "To talk about work?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light, crisp, businesslike. 

"To talk about work, yes, and to talk about other things."

Kurt closed his eyes, sighing. "Like?"

Now Blaine let out a sigh of his own, and Kurt could practically picture him shaking his head. "I've thought about you a lot, Kurt," he said softly. "I had to make myself wait to call you. I wanted to call you yesterday-- hell, I wanted to call you as soon as my plane landed." Kurt said nothing, just held his breath and waited. "I'd really like to see you," Blaine finished, almost mumbling now.

Kurt exhaled slowly, blinking a few times to clear his vision, and then stared blankly across his kitchen. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Quinn saunter into the room, and he bent at the waist and patted his leg to get her to come closer. He was stalling, of course. "I think that would be a good idea, yes," he finally said, and winced at the soft sigh of relief he heard from Blaine. "This afternoon's fine, I can be downtown in an hour or so." There was no sense in putting this off, he realized. "Are you at the Heathman?" he asked, scratching Quinn lightly under her chin.

"The Heathman, yeah. Do you want to just meet me at the restaurant here? That seemed to work out well last time." 

"Sure," Kurt replied, ignoring the last thing Blaine had said. He playfully tapped at Quinn's nose, smiling when she jumped back from him, startled. "Get a table outside, since it's such a nice day. Order me an Arnold Palmer."

"Okay. You'll be here around... what, four-thirty?"

"Four-thirty."

 

Kurt had hoped to be able to walk inside the restaurant without Blaine seeing him, but Blaine was seated at one of the street-side outdoor tables and facing the direction from which Kurt was coming. They saw each other at the same moment, just as Kurt stepped under the bright red awning that extended over the resturant's doors. Blaine stood up at once, and his smile was so wide and so obviously genuine that it was impossible for Kurt not to return it. 

He slid his sunglasses on top of his head and walked toward the table, and now that he could see Blaine clearly, several thoughts hit him at once. The first, inevitably, was _Oh God, he looks amazing._ Right on its heels came _Oh God, this is such a mess._ And then, a brand of paranoia that hadn't struck him since college: _We've had sex, we're in public and we've **had sex,** everyone who walks past us on the sidewalk will know, he's seen me naked and he's sucked my dick and I know what the inside of his ass feels like and **everyone will be able to tell.**_ Thankfully, he then circled back around to _Oh God, he looks amazing_ and tried to stick with that, because at least that thought was a pleasant one.

"It's so good to see you," Blaine said softly, extending his hand. Kurt took it, intending to just give it an amiable shake, but Blaine immediately covered Kurt's hand with his other one, holding it captive. "You look fantastic. Thanks for coming."

Flustered, Kurt pulled his hand away as gently as he could and took the chair opposite Blaine's. He noticed then that Blaine didn't have his laptop or iPod or any sheet music, nothing at all to indicate this was to be a meeting about _work._ His drink was already waiting and he took a long, grateful sip from it, suddenly wishing he'd ordered alcohol instead.

As if reading his mind, Blaine said, smiling, "I didn't know what an Arnold Palmer was when I asked for it. I thought it was some kind of cocktail." He gestured toward the glass of white wine in front of him. "Felt kind of silly when it came."

Kurt smiled as well, though somewhat painfully. "No, just iced tea and lemonade."

"Mmm, I might have to get one myself."

Kurt bit his lip, forcing himself to meet Blaine's eyes. He wouldn't have been able to handle small talk on the phone and he definitely couldn't deal with it in person. Just jumping right into the muck would be the best thing to do, no matter how awkward it might be. "Listen, I have a few things I want to say right off the bat here. Clear the air."

Blaine blinked, looking surprised, but he nodded. "Yes, by all means."

But he just continued to look at Blaine for a minute, drinking him in. He was _so_ gorgeous, it was really unfair. His hair was a little longer than Kurt remembered and he had a bit of a tan, the color standing out nicely against the white Oxford shirt he wore, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows so his forearms were on display. Now that they were here, Kurt wasn't sure if he was really prepared to do this so soon. Wouldn't it be nice to just sit and talk for a while? Catch up? Maybe they could get everything out in the open in a gentler way than he'd planned. On the transit train ride over, Kurt had tried to work out everything he wanted to say to Blaine, but he had forgotten to account for those eyes gazing at him, distracting and clear.

No, he needed to just rip off the band-aid. Get it over with. Yes. Even if it meant he might soon be _wearing_ that glass of wine in front of Blaine.

"I'm going to just be blunt," Kurt said. "What happened between us, is that just something you... do?"

Blaine frowned. "What do you mean?"

"When you have guesting gigs in different cities, do you hook up with someone every time?" Kurt's heart was pounding and he knew his cheeks were red, but by God, he'd said it. Finally.

"Are you serious?" Blaine stared at him open-mouthed, his eyes narrowed with - wow, already - something remarkably like anger. "You're not seriously asking me that."

"I am, yes." Kurt wanted to grab his glass and down the entire contents in one gulp, but it would look like a sign of weakness. "That's how it came off. You got here, you were all charming, to me and to everybody, and then you got me drunk and were all, 'ooh, come upstairs with me'." 

"I-- no. _No._ Absolutely not, I-- God, I can't believe that's what you thought." Blaine's voice was harsher than Kurt had ever heard it, almost dangerous. "That's what you've been thinking this whole time? That's why--" Blaine broke off, rolling his eyes toward the sky and sitting back heavily in his chair. "That's why you stopped emailing. Got it. Okay." Then he suddenly leaned forward again, his chin only inches from the table. "That really hurts my feelings, Kurt. I can't fucking believe you'd think that."

Kurt hadn't really known what kind of response he would get, but he certainly hadn't anticipated _this._ "Well, what _else_ was I supposed to think?" he hissed, also leaning forward. "Yes, it's why I stopped emailing, because if it was something _more_ than that, something _real,_ then you sure were taking your sweet time letting me know!"

"I was being polite!" Blaine had almost shouted, and he quickly looked around, visibly trying to calm himself down. "You treated me like shit the day after we slept together, I didn't know what the hell had happened. I never expected to hear from you again. So when I got an email from you out of the blue, talking about one of your students and sounding totally normal, I was like 'okay, I don't know what's going on, but I'm gonna be nice to him, at least'."

"And yeah," he added, now sounding much more hurt than angry. "It _was_ something real to me. I think - I _thought,_ anyway - that you're amazing. I liked you from the start, from my first night there. I walked in and saw you and I said to myself, 'oh man, this is going to be a great, great week'. And I've been thinking about you ever since. Even after you blew me off the next day. I kept trying to come up with an excuse to call you, or... or to fly out here, as crazy as that would be. And now you're sitting there telling me you think I just sleep with the first hot guy I see in every city. No. No way. I'd _never_ done it before you." He gestured wildly at Kurt, sweeping his hand up and down. "Big fat exception."

Kurt just sat in stunned, shamed silence, unable to think of a single thing to say. He stared at his glass, watching beads of condensation slide down the outside of it to pool on the surface of the table. He felt small and mean and stupid and just fucking _terrible._ Everything Blaine was saying made perfect sense. Of course he was going to be cautious after the way Kurt had acted the morning after. But Kurt had jumped to the worst possible conclusion. 

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, almost whispering. "I don't... somebody put the idea in my head, and I guess I just latched onto it."

"That somebody, whoever they are, is an asshole."

Kurt winced, but didn't nod or shake his head because he honestly didn't know if he agreed or not. "I owe you an explanation," he said, looking directly into Blaine's eyes, which were still flashing with irritation. "Will you hear me out?"

Blaine stared at him for a moment and then jerked his head in a quick nod.

"That week you were here," Kurt began slowly. "It was... it was really great, believe me. We hit it off well and I like you, and..." He glanced around quickly and lowered his voice. "And the sex was fantastic. Okay?" Blaine nodded again, his expression softening now. "But I think it was a mistake, because I don't really do that. No hook-ups, no one-night stands. I told you about how me and my last boyfriend got together, it was just like that, and I didn't want to do that again."

"You told me you met Sebastian after a concert and he went home with you," Blaine cut in. Kurt blinked, very surprised that he remembered Sebastian's name, and it took him a few seconds to recover himself and nod in agreement. "Well, that's not what we did. We worked together for a whole week beforehand. And anyway, I wouldn't say what you two did was a one-night stand, since you were together for months afterward."

Kurt held back a sigh. This was going to be more difficult than he'd thought. "Okay, technicalities. But my point is, I like to take things slow. With you, I don't really know what came over me." He stopped, rolling his eyes at himself - could he have chosen a more lame phrase? "Look, you're really hot, and I was on an adrenalin high from a good concert, and we were drinking, and I really do like you, and it just _happened._ I'm not saying that gave me an excuse to treat you the way I did the next day, though." Blaine smiled grimly, and picked up his wineglass to take a sip from it, not breaking eye contact with Kurt. "I was... well, not _embarrassed,_ but I felt lousy. It had nothing at all to do with you, though. I need you to know that much, at least."

Blaine just looked at him, his expression unreadable. Feeling his cheeks growing hot again, Kurt drained half of his Arnold Palmer in one gulp, sucking an ice cube into his mouth before setting the glass back down. After several uncomfortable seconds of silence, he added, "So, this is me giving you an overdue apology for my behavior," he mumbled, wishing Blaine would say something.

"I forgive you," Blaine said, so quietly that at first Kurt thought he might have imagined it. "If you forgive me for not being honest with you from the start?"

"What should you have been honest about?" Kurt asked, very confused.

"I should have just straight up told you I liked you," Blaine replied, sounding miserable. "It would have saved all this bother." He waved a hand vaguely, sighing. "I just didn't because I was only here for a week and I didn't know if you'd think it was worth it to try. And I really, really didn't intend to sleep with you." He reached across the table to place his fingertips against the back of Kurt's hand. They were warm and reassuring, and Kurt had to work hard to keep from turning his hand over to lace their fingers together. "If that was a mistake, it's on both of us."

"If you say so," Kurt murmured. He still felt awful, and Blaine trying to apologize was only making it worse. His infraction had been much less than Kurt's own; they weren't even in the same category. 

"Are you seeing anybody right now?" Blaine asked softly. Kurt shook his head, and Blaine mumbled, "Good," but didn't say why. Kurt could only think of one reason, but it was bewildering that Blaine might still want to pursue something with him. 

A waitress appeared suddenly, all smiles, and asked if they would like refills. Kurt nodded, and Blaine asked for an Arnold Palmer for himself, handing her his empty wineglass. _Just like last time,_ Kurt thought with a small smile. _Except this time it's cold drinks instead of coffee. Back then it was still winter, and now it's almost autumn._

When she had gone, Blaine looked at him intently, sliding his fingers over more of Kurt's hand. Kurt hadn't realized that they were still touching, and that the waitress had seen it made him squirm slightly. But Blaine's next words made him forget all about his discomfort. "Have dinner with me."

"I... what?"

"Let's have dinner. We can stay here and ask for menus when she comes back with our drinks, or we can go somewhere else. I just don't want to leave you yet."

Kurt just looked at him, his mind whirling. This was the _opposite_ of slow, wasn't it? "Blaine..."

"Okay, how about this. Why don't we just start over, then?"

Kurt frowned, shaking his head slightly. Start over?

"I'm here for a lot longer than a week this time," Blaine said softly. "Why don't we start fresh? Pretend February never happened?" How he expected Kurt to forget the best sex he'd had in years was incomprehensible, and Kurt was about to protest when Blaine suddenly removed his hand from Kurt's, only to hold it out to be shaken. "Hi, I'm Blaine," he said, smiling. "I'm so glad to meet you, and I'm honored to be here working with you and your orchestra."

Kurt stared at him, shaking his head slowly as a disbelieving smile spread over his face. But he shook Blaine's hand all the same, sighing quietly before saying, "My name is Kurt, and yes, likewise."

Grinning now, Blaine gave his hand a small squeeze. "Kurt, I'd like to buy you dinner."

Kurt sputtered, glancing away so he wouldn't just burst out laughing, and withdrew his hand. "My, that's rather forward. I'm speechless, sir."

"But flattered, I hope?"

"Well, yes, very." He turned his eyes back to Blaine, who winked. "I accept. But I hope you have plenty of money, because this place is pricey. And I'm high-maintenance."

"Oh, I could tell that just by looking at you," Blaine said, his voice brimming with affection, and he smiled at the waitress approaching their table with two glasses on a tray. He requested menus, which she grabbed from a small server stand near the door. Blaine handed one to Kurt and, still smiling, said, "So tell me all about this Will Schuester guy I'm stepping in for."

 

Blaine's fingers were sure and warm as they stroked him slowly, and Kurt was having a lot of trouble staying balanced on top of him. His hands were braced against Blaine's chest and his knees were planted firmly into the mattress on either side of Blaine's body, but it felt so good that staying upright was nearly impossible. Blaine's other hand was against his ass, molded to the curve of one cheek as if it had been made to fit there.

"Want to be in you," Blaine was murmuring, and Kurt could feel his hips rolling smoothly up against his own. "Want you to ride me, baby."

Kurt didn't know where the bottle of lube came from or how it ended up in his hand, but suddenly there it was, and he stared down at Blaine as he poured some into his palm, then reached behind his body to find Blaine's cock so he could slick it up. The thought of a condom never crossed his mind; he simply lifted up on his knees, moved back a few inches, and sank slowly down onto Blaine's cock, letting out a long, low moan.

"That's right," Blaine said softly, now gripping Kurt's hips. "That's right, beautiful. That's where you belong." 

They moved together seamlessly, Kurt strangely not finding it difficult now to keep his balance. He just let Blaine do all the work, while he jerked himself off with one hand and pinched at one of his nipples with the other. Blaine kept talking to him the whole time, his voice low and gentle, flitting from sweet nothings to incredibly filthy encouragements with absurd ease. And then suddenly Kurt couldn't hear Blaine talking anymore, so he opened his eyes and looked down, and somehow Blaine's torso was impossibly curled; he had his mouth around Kurt's cock _while_ continuing to fuck him. That was some kind of amazing physics, had to be... But Kurt couldn't really dwell on it, not when he was getting sucked and fucked at the same time, by an incredible mouth and an equally incredible dick, and he knew he wasn't going to last, he was going to come any second, Blaine was going to make him come _so hard..._

Kurt woke up with a gasp, legs kicking wildly at the sheet to get it out of the way, fingers wrapping tight around his erection - too hard, painfully hard. He only needed a few quick strokes before he was coming in hot streaks all over his chest, groaning loudly in the stillness of his own empty bedroom. 

Whining, he passed his left hand over his eyes. His head was a confused mess, cloudy with sleep and slow from the ridiculous orgasm he'd just experienced, but he still knew exactly what had happened. He hadn't had a wet dream - at least that he had woken up from - in six fucking years. Of course he had to have one on the very same night he'd seen Blaine again. Not once since February had he even allowed himself to think about sex with Blaine, not even to reminisce about the one time they'd been together. And now _this._ Really fantastic.

_So much for going slow._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Symphony AU. Kurt is the 27-year-old first violinist and concertmaster of the Oregon Symphony Orchestra in Portland. Blaine arrives in town to guest conduct their concert of Holst's The Planets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Livejournal January-March 2012. Masterpost: http://colfer.livejournal.com/47608.html

Kurt was very glad that he and Rachel already had plans to do brunch the next day, their annual last hurrah of the summer, because if there was ever a time when he needed to talk to her, it was now. This meal usually stretched from eleven in the morning until at least two o'clock and might end up being even longer this time. He planned to do his best to keep their alcohol intake to a minimum, though, considering what had happened the last time Rachel had been tipsy and tried to give him advice on Blaine.

He let her go first though, patiently listening to her story about the new tenor in the choir, Jesse, spending the entire first rehearsal last Thursday hitting on her. She and Finn were still going quite strong, so the poor guy was completely wasting his time, but it was always amusing to watch Rachel get flustered over male attention, so Kurt didn't try to make her hurry up and finish talking. When she downed the last drops of champagne in her glass and bit into a strawberry, he could tell she was done. He took a deep breath, placing both hands flat on the table on either side of his plate, fingers splayed. Rachel looked at him curiously, and then her eyes grew wide and she quickly swallowed her bite. "You have news." It wasn't a question; she just knew him.

"I do," Kurt replied quietly, and took a long, fortifying drink from his iced tea. Then he launched into the tale of what had happened with Blaine the day before, leaving out no details.

She proved to be a very good audience. At all the right places, she gasped with shock and covered her mouth and curled her fingers into anticipatory fists and then, near the end, positively _cooed_ with happiness. She wasn't even all that apologetic about her role in the mess, but Kurt was okay with it since things had worked out. And, incredible friend that she was, she didn't get embarrassed when he told her about the dream he'd woken himself up from in the early hours of that morning. On the contrary, she smirked at him and nudged his leg playfully under the table. "I _knew_ you still wanted him."

Kurt couldn't deny that, so he smiled modestly and gave a little shrug. "So are you two going to start dating now?" she asked, wearing a dreamy expression.

"I don't know," he said slowly. "At dinner last night, we kept it pretty impersonal and mostly talked about work stuff. I just want to see where things go for right now."

"Well, whatever happens, you need to keep me 100% informed. I won't be able to see the two of you in rehearsals this time around, either." The orchestra and the choir, which Rachel was a part of, were two separate entities with their own staffs and schedules, although the groups collaborated a few times each year. Rachel's involvement with the performance of _The Planets_ when Blaine had last been in Portland had been a lucky coincidence. 

"I will, don't worry," Kurt assured her, smiling gratefully, and promptly changed the subject when he saw Rachel reaching for the champagne bottle to pour herself another glass.

When they parted for their respective homes an hour later, Kurt felt a tiny twinge of guilt for not being completely honest with her. He'd told her just about everything, but there was one rather important item he'd kept to himself. After waking from that crazy dream, he had lay awake for a long time mulling the situation over, and had come to a decision. Even though Blaine would be in town for most of the next nine months, he would still be leaving afterward. Kurt was at the point in his life where he needed something more permanent than what could be accomplished between now and May. Yes, he could date Blaine casually, but he would not allow himself to become attached. That meant little possibility of sex, because for Kurt that was the surest route to developing feelings beyond friendship. It was, he reflected bitterly, why he had stayed with Sebastian for as long as he had. 

He hoped he wouldn't have to lay this out on the table for Blaine anytime soon, though, if ever. With luck, Blaine would instinctively want the same thing, or at the very least, he had really listened to Kurt the day before and wasn't just assuming he'd be getting laid in a few days' time. _He can get sex from plenty of guys in this town,_ Kurt thought, ignoring the small stab of something like jealousy that shot through him. _He can go out with whoever he wants, of course he can._ He felt another stab, stronger this time, and covered his face with his hands to muffle a groan. Then he remembered that he was on a public transit train and tried to comport himself with more dignity, giving the girl across from him a weak smile. She didn't smile back, and suddenly became very interested in her iPod. 

Clearly, Kurt's resolve to keep things with Blaine as loose as possible was shaky enough. What happened when he arrived home didn't help with this in the slightest.

He intended to cloister himself and practice all afternoon - their opening concert the following weekend included a movement from Prokofiev's Violin Concerto No. 2 for him to play, which he had never performed before. But just as he began to open his violin case, the doorbell rang, and he looked up with a frown. Who on earth... he didn't have a lesson he'd forgotten about, did he?

A pretty teenage girl stood on the front porch with an animated smile and... a vase of absolutely stunning Calla lilies. "Kurt Hummel?" she asked brightly, and he nodded, staring at the flowers with his mouth slightly open. "For you!" She hoisted the vase a little higher, beaming, and held a clipboard out to him. "Just sign at the bottom."

Kurt took the clipboard, his hands shaking slightly. There was no way this was from... well, it had to be from his dad or something, an early "good luck on opening night" gesture that was worlds away from the quick phone call he'd been making to Kurt for the last nine years. Had to be. Of course his gruff, everyman, woodshop-teacher father would send him an arrangement of 15 white lilies. _Of course_ he would. Kurt scribbled his signature, noting that, according to the form, his plucky delivery girl was named Sugar - what a perfect job for that name. He thanked her as he handed the clipboard back, and she just smiled even more enthusiastically as she gave him the vase. "Lucky guy," she said, giving him a cheeky wink and a little wave before turning to head back down the steps to her car. 

He closed the door and walked dazedly back into the living room, carrying the heavy vase with both hands. They weren't completely white lilies, he now saw, but deep purple inside, just _gorgeous._ After setting the vase carefully on the coffee table, he pulled the card out of its holder. The front told him that the flowers were a variety called "Vermeer," but what he was concerned about was what was on the _inside_ of the card, and he took a deep breath before opening it.

_It was so good to see you yesterday. Thank you for the first of (hopefully) many dinner dates.  
\- B_

Kurt couldn't help it - he pressed the card to his face as if to hide his grin, and actually _giggled_ against the paper. Unbelievable. Blaine Anderson was un-fucking- _believable_ in the very best way.

And, with all thought of practicing momentarily forgotten - not to mention his determination to go slowly with Blaine - he dove for his phone to call and thank him, and _maybe_ to also ask if he was free for an early dinner tomorrow before their first rehearsal.

 

They quickly fell into an easy rhythm - getting together every day that week before rehearsals, just like last time, but now with less obvious attempts at one-upping each other with charm. Blaine was quite the gentleman and didn't push too hard, didn't try anything that made Kurt stop and re-evaluate. He _was_ rather handsy, but it was nice and mostly innocent, and rarely left Kurt wanting more. 

And they were actually able to _talk_ about things that didn't immediately fall neatly into the category of work or flirting. It was as if they really had just met and were navigating the start of a potential relationship. Kurt found out that Blaine had an older brother named Cooper and that he never wore socks if he could get away with it ("My feet don't smell, I promise!") and that he'd transferred to a private school halfway through high school because of all the shit he got for being gay. "It got better for Iowa, obviously," Blaine grinned. "I was in my first year of grad school when same-sex marriage passed there. I wanted to be at home _so_ badly, but we celebrated pretty hard in Boston that night anyway." He winked then, implying just what sort of celebration had gone on, and Kurt was useless for the remainder of the evening, unable to stop picturing a giant orgy. 

He also discovered that Blaine was kind of a major dork. The orchestra's first concert was Russian-themed, with the Prokofiev as well as the main draw of Rachmaninoff's Symphony No. 2, and Blaine thought it was a fabulous idea to spend at least half of rehearsals speaking with a Russian accent. It wasn't until Thursday that Kurt had the heart to tell him that _everybody_ was laughing at him behind his back for it. But Blaine took it in stride, adding that it was a good thing he hadn't gone all out and asked the orchestra to call him "Czar" for the week. 

There were no problems with the pieces, everyone was getting along smashingly (Kurt was sure Blaine's presence instead of Will's was responsible for most of the good vibes), and the Saturday night performance went off without a hitch. The applause was thunderous, and when Kurt took his own bow, Blaine was clapping for him as hard as the standing audience.

The traditional opening night reception followed the concert, giving Sue Sylvester ample opportunity to drag Blaine around to donors and brag about how lucky they were to have him for the entire season. Kurt was usually the one in the spotlight for these receptions, but he was quite happy to stand back this time, mostly because it was hilarious to watch Sue literally marching Blaine around the room. Blaine caught his eye several times and alternated between "please get me the fuck out of here" faces and that sweet smile of his that Kurt was becoming extremely fond of, but they only got a chance to talk at the very end of the night. "Thank goodness that's over?" Kurt asked teasingly as he handed Blaine a glass of wine, and Blaine whined pitifully and dropped his forehead to Kurt's shoulder. "You survived," Kurt whispered, giving Blaine's back a gentle pat and putting off stepping away for as long as possible.

 

Rehearsals for the next concert wouldn't begin for another two weeks, so they saw less of each other in the week following the opening. They did get together twice for dinner, and Kurt was relieved that they were staying in this same even keel; no pushing from Blaine or stirrings for more within himself. It was just _nice,_ and _natural,_ and Kurt went to sleep with a smile on his face even though he was alone in the bed.

The first sign of something a bit more accelerated occurred when Blaine called him just after eight in the morning on Sunday. "There'd better be a good reason for this," Kurt grumbled into the phone, stifling a yawn.

"There is. What are you doing today?"

"Nothing," Kurt replied, and didn't hold back the yawn this time. 

"Want to come to Seattle with me?" The huge grin on Blaine's face was clearly evident in his voice, and Kurt smiled in spite of himself.

"Why?"

"Pike Place Market! I'm being a tourist!"

"Oh, Blaine, what..." Kurt sighed, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm serious. I want to see them throw the fish!"

Kurt almost rolled his eyes. _Of course_ Blaine wanted to see that. "There's a lot more to Pike Place than just that, you know."

"I _know,_ that's why I want you to come."

Oh. _Oh._ Kurt began to blush, and laid the back of his hand against his cheek before throwing his arm over his head to curl his fingers into his pillow. This was going to be a date, a real one, their first away from the safety of meals around downtown and coffees a half-hour before rehearsal. He didn't know quite what to think, but he did know that saying anything other than "yes" was not an option.

Blaine was babbling something about wanting to do it today because the weather would soon turn too chilly and wet to be able to enjoy the outing, and Kurt waited patiently for a break in the flow of words. "Are you sure you're not just asking me because you don't have a car here and you want a ride?" he asked dryly, hoping Blaine couldn't hear him smiling. 

"I'm renting a Zipcar, and I'll do the driving, so we're all set! Come _onnnnn._ "

"Blaine, you know it's three hours away..." Kurt said, as if so much time together in an enclosed space might make Blaine re-think the idea.

Blaine's tone softened for the first time. "That's what I'm looking forward to the most, actually. Three hours in a car with you."

 _Damn_ him. 

"Okay, okay, sold." Kurt injected just enough exasperation into his tone to cover up how fast his heart was beating. "You woke me up, you know, so I need a little while to get ready. Pick me up at... 10:00?"

"I'll be there. Wear comfortable shoes."

The long drive actually _was_ a lot of fun. Blaine already had his iPod plugged into the dock when he arrived at Kurt's house and a great portion of the trip was spent poring through its songs. Blaine was much more tuned into the modern music world than Kurt and gave him quite a bit of education. Among the (frankly unnerving) amount of Katy Perry and Pink, he also had dozens of songs by people Kurt had never heard of. "Portland has a great local music scene," Blaine said casually at one point. "We should go see some bands sometime." Kurt was too startled to respond with anything but an appreciative smile and nod.

Once they got to Pike Place, though, it was Kurt's turn to be in charge. He hadn't been there for three years, but it rarely changed much. They began at the corner of Virginia and Pike, heading south, because Kurt just knew Blaine would want to get coffee in the very first Starbucks store ever. Then he took them straight to the Main Arcade so Blaine could get his fish-throwing fix early - although he did make Kurt promise that they'd come back later, too. They moved through the farmers' and craft markets, then went Downunder and wandered until Blaine's stomach started growling. Kurt dragged him over to Daily Dozen for the very best doughnuts he would ever taste and wasn't even embarrassed by Blaine's near-orgasmic moans as he ate.

Although it might not be the best place to go right after eating, Kurt knew no tourist trip to Pike Place could be complete without seeing the Gum Wall, and since they were close, he took Blaine there next. As most people were, Blaine was both fascinated and horrified by it, even taking pictures to send to friends in Boston and family back in Iowa, and he read some of the responses aloud to Kurt with great embellishment. Then they spent the remainder of the afternoon wandering back up Post Alley, and Kurt had to restrict Blaine's desire to stop and graze at many of the food vendors they passed. They were heading someplace fabulous for dinner, Kurt insisted, so he needed to save his appetite.

Blaine would have to wait just a bit longer, though. As they drew close to Pine Street, Kurt stopped short, his head cocked to one side as he stared straight ahead. Blaine hadn't realized he'd stopped and kept walking, looking back a few seconds later when he finally noticed that Kurt was no longer beside him. "What's up?" he asked, with a touch of concern. Kurt simply smiled, held a finger to his lips, then tapped his ear and pointed ahead of them.

It took Blaine a moment to figure it out, but when he did, a broad smile spread over his face, too. "Let's go listen," he said warmly to Kurt, who nodded eagerly and quickly began to walk again.

Buskers were quite common - they had already seen several that day - but it was somewhat rare to run into a _violinist._ She was standing just south of the Steelhead Diner and had attracted a modest crowd, and as they moved closer, Kurt immediately understood why. A pretty, shapely blonde who couldn't be a day older than 20, wearing a miniskirt and a tank top to boot, would draw interest at almost any time. But Kurt could tell just by glancing around at the faces of the people who had stopped that it was her violin keeping them there. 

As nearly all street musicians did, she had her case open on the sidewalk in front of her, its interior gleaming with coins and peppered with a few bills, along with a hand-lettered sign - this one decorated with bright colors and plenty of glitter. "Brittany S. Pierce (no relation to Britney Spears no matter how fast you say my name) - Donations Welcome!"

The piece she was playing was not one that Kurt recognized, which surprised him. He was by no means an encyclopedia of classical music, but he did know quite a lot and could usually figure out what he was hearing. After a minute, he gave up, and wondered if it might be an original composition. Whatever it was, it - and she - was excellent.

The dozen or so onlookers broke into polite applause when she finished, and she beamed around at all of them, quietly thanking those who dropped money into her violin case before they strolled away. Blaine caught Kurt's eye, and, obviously able to tell just from his expression that he didn't want to leave just yet, gave Kurt a small nod and a smile before turning his attention back to Brittany.

The next notes that came from her violin were startling, and Kurt was likely the first in the crowd to know what they were, although most people caught on after only a few seconds. Blaine actually let out a burst of delighted laughter when he recognized it and brought both hands together in a loud clap, his eyes fixed on her rapidly moving bow. It took a certain kind of person to play "Devil Went Down to Georgia" in public like this, and Kurt's opinion of Brittany S. Pierce increased with every note. It was a difficult piece, jangling and fiercely fast, especially without any other instruments to soften it, and she was playing it flawlessly. 

But as if that weren't enough, she slid from that directly into something that could not have been more different - "Air on the G String". Kurt let out an audible sigh of contentment; it was his all-time favorite piece, one of the first he'd ever learned. Brittany's version was so delicate, her tone so gloriously pure, so rich and stirring in the fading sunlight on this busy street corner in the midst of so much commerce, that he had to blink back tears.

He quite forgot about Blaine as he watched her, his breath nearly stolen by the intensity of her expression. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, and her entire body swayed with the bow in a seamless dance. She was somewhere else, somewhere far away, where there was only her and her instrument. Kurt knew the place very well.

When she finished, the applause was respectfully subdued, but almost everyone (the crowd had grown larger, probably drawn by Charlie Daniels and kept there by Bach) was shaking their heads in wonder. Most of them moved forward to drop money in her case, but Kurt wasn't quite ready yet. She had begun to play Vitali Chaconne - he forced himself to block it out so he could focus on what he was doing - and Blaine watched curiously as Kurt extracted one of his business cards from their holder and wrote on the back of it.

_We need someone like you in Portland. Give me a call if you're interested._

Then he drew a large arrow on the front to alert her to the message on the other side, and gave Blaine a quick smile as he pulled out his wallet. "You see her face?" Blaine asked quietly. "She's in a trance. She doesn't even know any of us are here." Kurt nodded vaguely, thumbing through his wallet for a twenty to wrap around the business card. But Blaine's next words drew his attention completely. "But how she looks right now doesn't even come close to the way you look when you play." 

Kurt stared at him with his lips parted a little, unable to tell at first what precisely Blaine was trying to say to him. It was a compliment, he knew, but _Blaine's_ face at that moment was so fervent, his eyes so piercing, that Kurt didn't know what to do or say. After a few seconds, though, Blaine relaxed into yet another smile, keeping his eyes on Kurt as he pulled out his own wallet. When at last he lowered his gaze to look through his bills, Kurt had to remind himself to breathe. 

And after they had dropped their donations into Brittany's violin case, he took Blaine's hand for the first time, entwining their fingers tightly, and led him toward The Pink Door.

Something had shifted between them in that moment, something visceral and practically electric. It was clear that Blaine felt it too, because as they sat outside on the restaurant's deck, sharing tapenade and barely noticing the early October chill, he turned the conversation to more personal topics than they'd covered before. First crushes, first kisses, first loves. Kurt was surprisingly fine with discussing such intimate details with Blaine so soon, and in fact he became so enthralled with the conversation that he hardly appreciated the quality of dinner's main course. What was food when _life_ was happening? 

More important - and more troubling - questions swirled around Kurt's head as well. When did his heart decide that it was okay to let Blaine in like this? Why did absolutely everything between them have to be so damned _comfortable?_ Why couldn't Blaine make it more difficult to like him so fucking much?

_Only till May. He's only here until May. You can't fall for him. Just quit it right now._

They made it back to the rental car just before nine o'clock, which meant it would be close to midnight when they got back to Portland. Blaine insisted he was fine to do the drive back as well and Kurt, feeling a little guilty but not enough to really protest, made himself comfortable in the passenger seat. While the engine warmed, Blaine clicked through the playlists on his iPod to find something appropriate: Puccini, Paganini, Monteverdi, with the volume low.

They were quiet for the most part, both of them tired and full of food and each contemplating the day in their own way. At one point, Blaine snapped his fingers and said they had forgotten to go back and watch them throw the fish again, to which Kurt gave him an indulgent smile and patted his hand - and left his own there for several minutes. 

He wanted to twine their fingers together. He wanted to reach over and rub the back of Blaine's neck as he drove. He wanted to tell Blaine to pull over, not even at a rest stop or at an exit, just on the side of the damn interstate, so he could plunge both hands into Blaine's hair and kiss him until they were both gasping and weak. But something held him back every time he started to say it, and he closed his mouth again before Blaine could notice he'd been about to speak. 

Kurt was dozing when that sixth sense that tells you you're almost home made him stir, and he saw that they were in his neighborhood. "Sorry," he mumbled, smiling sheepishly. "You should have woken me up before now." 

"No problem," Blaine replied softly, his fingers splayed against the steering wheel as he turned it. Now they were on Kurt's street, and he felt a pang dart through his chest that their time together was nearly over. 

Blaine eased the car into the driveway and carefully put it into park, but didn't turn off the engine. With a small, happy sigh, Kurt turned in the passenger seat to look at him, his mind racing with a dozen things he shouldn't say. "Thanks for today," he said, practically blurting it out, and covered it with a smile. "It was really... really great." God, he hoped that didn't sound as lame as he thought it did. He was sharply reminded of saying almost these exact words to Blaine the morning after they had slept together, and look how _that_ turned out. 

Luckily, Blaine didn't seem troubled by the same thought, because he grinned. "Thank _you_ for coming. And thank you for spending" - he glanced at the clock on the dashboard - "14 hours straight with me and not wanting to kill me."

"Of course not," Kurt murmured, shaking his head. Their eyes met and held, the moment stretching out like a rubber band, threatening to snap any second and sting them both. Kurt bit his tongue to keep from telling Blaine that he had a student at nine the next day so he really needed to get inside and go to bed, because it would be far too much like that awful morning. 

Then Blaine was reaching for the ignition, turning it off, and Kurt's worst fears were confirmed. He wanted to come in. He wanted to _come in_ and Kurt had no defenses or excuses to refuse him, none at all, because the idea of walking into his house tonight _without_ Blaine was too goddamn depressing to even think about. "It's late, let me walk you to the door," Blaine said quietly, with that same serene little smile he'd worn all evening, and Kurt wanted to leap from the car, run up to the door, slam it behind him and deadbolt it tight. 

"It's a very safe neighborhood," he said weakly as he opened the passenger door.

"Ah, well. It's the right thing to do, anyway," Blaine answered, sounding so sincere that Kurt began to second-guess himself. Maybe Blaine really did just want to be a gentleman here. 

Their hands brushed lightly as they walked to the door, and even though Kurt wanted to snatch his away, he couldn't. Under the porch light, he turned his back to the door, and was once again revisited by a clear-cut memory of that night in February - Blaine pushing him against the hotel room door and attacking Kurt's lips with his own. Kurt swallowed hard, forcing his mouth to smile and his hands to stay at his sides.

"You're not too sleepy to make it to the hotel?" he asked softly.

"Nah, I'm fine." Blaine beamed at him, keeping a respectful distance but still much, much too close. "We'll talk tomorrow?"

"Mhm," Kurt hummed, barely aware of the sound. His head tilted very slightly, he pressed his lips together and exhaled deeply. Kissing Blaine right now would be the easiest thing in the world. The very easiest. 

But Blaine was already stepping away. "Good. Thank you, again, for a wonderful day." He took Kurt's hand, grasped it briefly, and let it go before Kurt could tighten his hold. "Sleep well," Blaine added softly, giving him one last smile before turning to head back down the sidewalk.

Kurt tipped his head back against the door, hoping that Blaine couldn't hear how ragged his breathing had become. He fumbled for the doorknob, clutching at it to have something cold and real to touch, and watched as Blaine climbed back into the car. They both gave little waves, and Kurt finally unlocked the door and stepped inside as the engine rumbled to life. He flipped the porch light off and then on again to let Blaine know he was okay, and heard the car reversing down the driveway. 

With a little whimper, Kurt pressed the top of his head to the door and shook it, silently berating himself for such a missed opportunity. When he turned to face the living room, he saw Quinn lying on the arm of their favorite chair, her front paws tucked primly under her and a look of pure contempt on her furry little face. Her eyes were even narrowed. She was _judging_ him, as she so often did.

"Oh, shut up," Kurt mumbled to her, pushing his body away from the door and striding straight to his bedroom.

 

A week before Halloween, Rachel suggested a dinner party at her house that weekend consisting of her, Finn, Kurt, and Blaine. Kurt jumped at the idea, and the two of them spent a day and a half arguing over the menu. The group's various diet restrictions - one vegan, one pescetarian, one who thought a meal wasn't complete without meat, and one who would eat just about anything - made deciding what to prepare a real challenge. In the end, they decided to just make it easy on everyone by ordering pizzas, salad, and homemade sodas from Hot Lips - a Portland institution Blaine had yet to experience, so all the more reason.

Since their trip to Seattle three weeks earlier, sexual tension between Kurt and Blaine was palpable. He wanted Blaine so much, so stupidly, ridiculously much, that just _glancing_ at him made Kurt hard. But at the same time, they always had such an absolute blast together that Kurt didn't want to do anything to screw it up. Trying to make a move might shatter the delicate balance. And Blaine was being so fucking _gallant_ and seemed oblivious to how crazy he was driving Kurt, so that just made it everything ten times worse. 

All things considered, yes, he was very grateful for this opportunity to spend meaningful time with Blaine while other people were also around, because it would likely cut the pressure considerably.

Kurt was also glad that Finn would be there. He had met Finn a few times now, just briefly, but hadn't spent a a great deal of time with him. Even though he was clearly making Rachel extremely happy, Kurt wanted to size him up better than he had so far. Since they'd already been dating for nearly four months, he was pretty much failing in that particular best friend duty, but no one seemed to mind. While Finn wasn't the brightest crayon in the box, he was very sweet and easygoing, which were more important attributes. And within ten minutes of his arrival at Rachel's house, it was plain to Kurt that Rachel had Finn wrapped around her little finger just as tightly as he had her around his. 

Finn was also, to Kurt's surprise, just as much of a closet dork as Blaine. The four of them had only been gathered for a little while, the food just ordered, when he confessed a small addiction to Hearts and proposed a game. "Or a tournament," he added, eyes gleaming. Blaine didn't know how to play, so Kurt quickly taught him the basics and then they played a few practice hands. At first Blaine kept passing the wrong cards, which exasperated Kurt. 

"Why are you giving away low spades? You _never_ pass those. They're your insurance against the Queen!"

Blaine tried to sass him, presenting some convoluted strategy, and since Kurt never backed down from an argument the two of them ended up sniping at each other for several minutes, while Finn stared at them in amazement and Rachel just gazed like a loving mother watching two bickering sons. 

At last Blaine conceded, and they started playing for real. To everyone's surprise, it was _Rachel_ who ended up with the Queen of spades more often than not. She lost, and when things didn't get better for her on the second game, she began to wail that they should _let_ her win since she was the only girl, at which all three men snorted with laughter. When she topped 100 points again, she grabbed most of the cards and tried to spray them across the table at Finn, who was the winner, and then stormed off.

"Leave her alone for now," Kurt told the other two, who were looking at each other as if unsure what to do next. "She's just a very sore loser. She'll be fine in a little bit."

And so she was. About ten minutes later (during which time the three of them talked a little about Halloween, and Finn and Kurt became bonded for life when it was revealed that they had each dressed up as Rocky Horror Picture Show characters in high school), she returned to the table all smiles and apologized for her behavior. Kurt just shook his head wearily, but Blaine and Finn both assured her that everything was fine, giving her winning smiles that made Kurt want to roll his eyes. 

Their dinner arrived in the middle of the next game, which meant a little shifting around on the table, but they managed to eat and play at the same time. After an hour, Kurt and Finn were neck-and-neck on games won, Rachel had recovered and was only a little behind them, and poor Blaine had lost five in a row and was only still playing because the game required four. _Or,_ Kurt mused, _because he's just that kind of guy._

When Finn shot the moon on the last hand and raised both arms in celebration, Kurt nearly pulled a Rachel by stomping off, but managed to congratulate him with a smile that was only half-mocking. He started to insist that they play one more time, but the food was all gone and Finn and Blaine were pushing their chairs back from the table to sit more comfortably. 

Rachel, ever the gracious hostess (except for those rare moments when she descended into childish pouting) told Finn sweetly that she wished she had some sort of prize for him, as the winner, and then let out a gasp. "But I do! I have vegan cheesecake in the freezer!" She started to get up, but Finn, laughing a bit awkwardly, took hold of her arm and told her not to worry about it. Kurt caught Blaine's eye and the two of them had to try hard not to burst into hysterical laughter. It was so like Rachel to think for even a second that her carnivorous manly-man boyfriend would _willingly_ eat vegan cheesecake after being _told_ it was vegan. 

Then Blaine, bless him, shifted the conversation entirely by leaning forward and telling Rachel that he would very much like to hear her sing. "You would?" she asked, unconvincingly trying to sound surprised and batting her eyelashes at him. 

"Yes, very much," Blaine repeated, smiling warmly. "I'm sure these two gentlemen have had plenty of opportunities--"

"I haven't, actually," Finn interrupted, and Kurt stared at him, astonished. He was sure that Rachel would have subjected Finn to it dozens of times by now. "I've only heard her a couple times."

This was something they would definitely have to discuss at a later date. Kurt had no idea what to make of it. Rachel _was_ her voice. It could only mean that her relationship with Finn was quite a bit stronger than he originally thought, if she wasn't relying on her vocal talents to keep him interested. This realization made Kurt unexpectedly sad; Rachel really had someone now. She didn't need him nearly as much anymore. 

But he pushed these thoughts away and focused on what Blaine and Rachel were saying. Since Kurt hadn't brought his violin, she wanted Blaine to accompany her on piano. He happily agreed, and then she tapped her chin with one finger in thought. "This needs careful planning. Mr. Anderson, if you would follow me into the music room so we can confer?" she said playfully, winking at Kurt and Finn. "We won't be long, darlings."

"While you two are conspiring," Kurt said, standing, "I'll clean up."

"I'll help you," Finn said, when he'd finished chuckling at the way Blaine and Rachel each tried to let the other go ahead of them out of the dining room.

Kurt hadn't anticipated being alone with Finn, but the ice had been sufficiently broken, so the silence between them wasn't awkward as they rinsed plates and glasses and silverware. At one point, Rachel yelled from the living room, "English or Italian?" 

Finn called back "English" at the same time that Kurt said "Italian," which elicited laughter from both rooms. 

Then Blaine piped up, "How about one of each?" which was, of course, perfectly agreeable to everyone. 

A few minutes later, as Kurt was loading the last items in the dishwasher, Finn spoke up. "You know, she's never actually told me how long you and Blaine have been together."

"I-- we're not," Kurt said quickly, his cheeks flushing horribly. "We're just... you know, dating. Sort of. Casually." 

Finn gave him a long look that Kurt couldn't read at all. "Huh," he replied at last, shrugging. "Coulda fooled me." Then he gave Kurt a small nod and a brief, knowing smile, and began to whistle as he tossed the dish towel he'd been using onto the counter and strolled out of the kitchen. 

Flustered, Kurt grabbed the discarded towel and twisted it in his hands, then dropped it again and marched to the freezer to stick his face in and cool it off before he rejoined everyone. 

Rachel had run off to the bathroom to tidy up, Blaine told them, but Kurt knew it was mostly because she wanted to make a proper entrance. Accordingly, all three of them clapped politely when she strode back into the living room, and she curtsied when she got to the piano, fluttering her hand over her heart. Kurt bit his lip to keep from smiling too widely. She glanced back at Blaine, who nodded and then gave her a sprightly intro that Kurt recognized immediately as "Musetta's Waltz" from _La Boheme_. He should have known, really; it was one of her favorites, and his as well - when she inquired about something in Italian he'd had an inkling this was what she had in mind.

Blaine, he noticed, didn't even have any sheet music in front of him, and he smiled as much at that as at Rachel's flawless, coquettish interpretation. Then he glanced at Finn out of the corner of his eye and saw that he was gazing at Rachel as though utterly enraptured. Finn likely had no clue whatsoever what Rachel was singing about, Kurt quickly realized, and was simply in awe of her voice. There was something a little... odd about his expression, but Kurt couldn't pinpoint it.

When she finished, he and Finn both applauded enthusiastically - Kurt even let loose with a "Brava!" to make her giggle - and she gave them another deep curtsy. Then she looked at Blaine again, who cleared his throat and half-stood from the piano bench. "And now," he said in a much deeper voice than usual, almost making Kurt snort, "Ms. Berry and I would like to give you "The Mermaid's Song" by the esteemed Joseph Haydn." Kurt nodded in approval, and Blaine winked at him.

This aria was nearly twice as long as the previous one, which gave Kurt more time to study Finn's expression and try to figure out what about it bothered him slightly. It wasn't until close to the end, when Rachel hit a particularly stirring note and Finn's eyes widened and his breath caught visibly, that Kurt understood at last. This was the same look Blaine had on his face when he watched Kurt play his violin.

It was different than the way an innocent bystander or audience member would react to excellent playing or singing. It was all in Finn's eyes, a blend of respect and reverence and pride and something like _worship_. In that moment, Kurt knew, regardless of whether Finn had confessed it to Rachel or even if he knew it himself, that he cared about her very, very much, maybe even loved her. Watching someone you care deeply about be their very best, and knowing that you had, in some way, probably helped them to _be_ their very best, was like nothing else in the world. 

And Blaine looked at Kurt that way when he played.

 

Sue conducted their next concert because Blaine had a guesting engagement with the Albuquerque Philharmonic. He and Kurt didn't talk much while he was away; just a few short and mostly impersonal text messages. _"How are things"_ and _"how's the weather"_ and _"is Sue being a tyrant"_ and _"is Albuquerque better than we are"_. Kurt didn't tell Blaine that he missed him, because he wasn't entirely sure if he did or not. On one level, it was a relief to be away from him and have a break from the swirl of confused and conflicting feelings. But at the same time, his days just weren't the same without Blaine in them.

Of course, since Blaine never said he missed Kurt either, it was probably a good thing that Kurt didn't try it, though Blaine probably would have said it back whether he meant it or not.

Blaine did make it back to Portland for the symphony's annual black-tie fundraiser, which was the Saturday before Thanksgiving. His presence made the schmoozing that Kurt so detested much easier to bear, and Blaine must have known this somehow, because he stuck to Kurt's side like glue for most of the evening. If someone wanted to talk to one of them, they had to talk to both of them. They did become separated at two or three points, but Blaine always found his way back.

It was during one of these moments of alone time, when Sue had marched Blaine off to meet with an important latecomer, that Kurt was standing all by himself near one wall, nursing a vodka tonic with plenty of lime and surveying the large room. Steven, their eccentric beekeeper first violist, was regaling a group of little old ladies not far away with a story Kurt couldn't really make out but was clearly quite entertaining. When one of the tiny darlings let out a loud gasp of shock at something Steven had said and actually clutched at her thick strand of pearls, Kurt took a step toward them, wondering if his help might be needed soon. Everyone seemed all right, though, and he continued to watch them closely just in case, his body turned so more than half the room was now behind him. Consequently, someone was able to slip in close and whisper directly into his ear.

"Hey, sexy."

Kurt closed his eyes, his heart not so much jumping into his throat as _lurching._ The voice was unmistakable, as was the height from which it had come; he'd become extremely used to both. Two years with someone will do that.

He turned slowly, a wry smile on his face when their eyes finally met. "Sebastian," he said, a bit breathy, a bit wary, a lot puzzled. They hadn't seen each other in months, not since the last time Sebastian stopped by Kurt's house after their break-up to get the last of the things he'd kept there, and _Jesus_ but he looked amazing. His tuxedo was impeccably tailored, not a hair was out of place, his features were as perfect as ever, and his eyes, as always, bored right into Kurt in a way that he'd never been completely comfortable with.

"You look incredible, it's so good to see you. I've been waiting all night to catch you on your own, you know. That cute little boy-toy of yours just won't leave you alone."

Kurt had to exercise great restraint in not rolling his eyes. "Not my boy-toy. It's Blaine Anderson, he's guest-conducting for most of the season."

"I see," Sebastian said smoothly, and moved just a bit closer. "You sure that's all he is?"

Kurt stared at him for a moment, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, because oh yes, he already knew what was happening here. "We're friends. We've been out a few times, but that's really all." Adding the "really" didn't make it a complete lie - not that Kurt cared all that much. He cleared his throat and added quickly, "What exactly are you doing here, Seb?" The nickname slipped out automatically, and he flushed a little.

Sebastian clearly caught it, because his smile instantly became more of a smirk, and he inched even nearer to Kurt. "The new CFO is just _all about_ this stuff" - he waved a hand vaguely at the rest of the room, and Kurt frowned inwardly at the nonchalance - "so he wants the firm to become a sponsor. When I told him I had an 'in' with someone pretty high-ranking..." Now he lightly touched one of Kurt's lapels, trailing his finger down it before finishing with, "...he asked me to come tonight." 

"Oh," was all Kurt could manage in response, and even that short word was cracked in the middle. Sebastian smelled _fantastic._

"Mhm," Sebastian replied, and took a long sip of red wine from his glass without moving back at all. "So. Kurt." The smirk was back and it was actually making Kurt's knees wobble slightly. He wished he could take a deep breath without Sebastian noticing. "How are you? I've missed you."

It was difficult to keep from snorting with laughter at that, but Kurt pulled it off. "I'm just fine, just fine. And yourself? Who are you here with?"

"Me, myself, and I."

Kurt hummed, and gave Sebastian a smirk of his own. "Between men at the moment?"

"Something like that. Or maybe I deliberately broke things off with the last one because I knew tonight was coming up, and that I'd see you here."

Christ Almighty, _where_ was Blaine? Where was _anybody_ to come and save him from this? Darting his eyes around for help would just make things worse, so he took a small step backward, under the pretense of needing room to lift his arm and take a swallow from his drink. He didn't respond to the last thing Sebastian had said, mostly because he had no idea what _to_ say. 

Sebastian obviously realized that he was making Kurt anxious because he eased off somewhat. His face was more relaxed and his tone attempting mere friendliness as he asked, "Are you spending Turkey Day with Burt?" Kurt nodded, trying to think of something equally casual to say back, but Sebastian added, "Not that you'll be having any turkey, of course. You still only like one kind of meat, right?"

 _Fuck._ Kurt's jaw dropped as Sebastian just _looked_ at him with his stupid twinkling eyes and his arrogant leer, and Kurt was about five seconds away from just dragging him off to a closet somewhere, for better or for worse, because it was quite clear that he could get sex from him right now if he wanted it. And for just an instant, less than a heartbeat, Kurt actually _did_ want it. Not Sebastian himself, and not just any old warm body, but something familiar and simple with no strings attached sounded pretty much awesome to his dick these days.

To his relief, he spotted Blaine over Sebastian's shoulder, weaving through the throngs of people and heading straight for them. Kurt murmured his name and broke into a grateful smile, waving him over. Sebastian turned his head, following Kurt's eyeline, and Kurt thought his shoulders stiffened a bit. 

"Hi," Blaine said warmly when he reached them, locking eyes with Kurt before focusing on Sebastian and extending his hand, his smile not faltering in the slightest. "Blaine Anderson." 

Sebastian glanced at Kurt for a fraction of a second, then took the offered hand and shook it firmly. "Good to meet you. Sebastian Smythe." 

And Kurt braced himself for the fallout.

"Seb-- you're--" Blaine's forehead creased and his eyes narrowed, but he didn't stop smiling, nor did he let go of Sebastian's hand. "You're Sebastian." He looked at Kurt, then seemed to note how close he and Sebastian were standing, and Kurt could tell his grip on Sebastian's hand tightened. "Yes. _Kurt's_ Sebastian. Right."

"Oh, my fame precedes me," Sebastian laughed, giving Blaine's hand one more brisk shake before dropping it. 

"Something like that, yes." Blaine's tone was suddenly icy, almost identical to the one he'd used that day he and Kurt had met up at the Heathman, when Kurt had bluntly asked him if he had a guy in every port. Then, in startling contrast to the way he sounded, he slid his arm around Kurt's waist, very deliberately curling his fingers around Kurt's side so the tips were visible to Sebastian. The message was crystal clear.

Kurt hardly knew where to _begin_ with the potentially fabulous mess in front of him. He couldn't stop smiling, his eyes moving swiftly back and forth between the two of them as they sized each other up, both clearly wanting to glare but desisting for the sake of propriety and the amount of people in the room. God, this was going to be amazing. "I need a refill," he announced, lifting his glass and rattling its ice cubes. Blaine and Sebastian tore their eyes away from each other to look at him instead, and Kurt just beamed at them both. "Can I get one for anybody else while I'm over there?" he asked sweetly.

"I'm fine," Blaine muttered, though he certainly looked like he could use a drink.

Sebastian, who had noted the position of Blaine's arm and apparently viewed it as a challenge, held out his empty wineglass to Kurt. "Yeah, could you get me a Courvy, babe?"

Kurt bit his tongue to keep from laughing (he'd forgotten about Sebastian's stupid little slang word for his favorite brand of cognac) and simply nodded, still smiling charmingly. "Be right back!" he chirped, and slipped out of the circle of Blaine's arm with some reluctance - it had felt extremely nice, regardless of its meaning for being there. He moved quickly across the room to the wet bar, glancing over his shoulder a couple of times on the way to make sure Blaine and Sebastian were still standing together.

"Grey Goose and tonic with three limes, and a Courvoisier, please." He hesitated, then added, "And a shot of Grey Goose, too." He would need something to steady him before he went back over there. As the bartender prepared the drinks, Kurt turned to face the room and zeroed in on Blaine and Sebastian, who appeared to be having a rather heated discussion. He bit lightly at the end of his thumb as he watched them, his eyes widening when Blaine took a step closer to Sebastian and almost got right in his face. They were both too refined to let it come to blows - or so Kurt hoped. 

He quickly downed the shot of vodka and left the empty glass on the bar, then picked up the other two drinks and headed straight back to where Blaine and Sebastian were still quite close. Kurt could see how set Blaine's jaw was, how dark and dangerous his eyes appeared even at a distance. Sebastian was, thankfully, moving backward away from Blaine and wore an expression of consternation. A few feet away, Kurt hesitated, wondering if he should let whatever was happening cool off a bit more before joining them, but Sebastian caught his eye and jerked his chin upward, inviting him closer.

Blaine's arm wrapped right back around Kurt's waist as soon as he stopped beside him, but he didn't question it and just handed Sebastian his drink with a polite smile. Then he started to say something - exactly what it would have been, he had no idea - but Sebastian cut him off. 

"Thank you," he said shortly, indicating the drink. "It was great to see you again, Kurt." He glanced at Blaine, and his jaw hardened, but all he said was, "Blaine," in a steely tone before striding away from them back into the crowd.

Kurt stared after him, stunned. "Okay..." he said slowly, shifting his eyes to Blaine. "What did I miss?"

Blaine took a deep breath and seemed to contemplate Kurt's drink for a few seconds, as if he wanted to grab it from him and chug it. But then he exhaled slowly and looked up into Kurt's face instead. "I said you'd told me quite a lot about your former relationship, and that I thought it would be in everyone's best interests if he walked away after you came back."

Kurt's eyebrows shot up. "There must have been more to it than that," he insisted. "I was watching the two of you."

"That was the basic gist of it," Blaine answered curtly.

"Damn," Kurt murmured, an awed smile spreading slowly over his face. "Sebastian almost _never_ backs down, so you must be really scary when you want to be, Anderson." He tried to keep his voice light, but it quavered a little since his heart was pounding. 

But Blaine didn't seem to pick up on the compliment and still looked pissed. "I saw him do that thing to your lapel from across the room. I knew exactly what was going on."

Kurt tilted his head slightly, still smiling. "'In everyone's best interests,' huh? Yours included?"

His coyness wasn't going to work, apparently. Blaine narrowed his eyes at him and withdrew his arm, and Kurt was startled by how much colder he felt without it. "Unlike him, I actually do care about you, Kurt," he said, his voice low and defeated. "Sorry for looking out for you." He took a step back and made as if to leave, but Kurt caught his arm.

"Don't, please." Kurt clutched at Blaine's jacket sleeve, feeling like a complete asshole for trying to play such a stupid little game. He didn't even know the rules. " _I'm_ sorry. Thank you for doing that, I mean it. I had no idea he'd be here and he made me really nervous and thank God you came over when you did, seriously." He slid his hand down Blaine's arm to grasp his hand, tugging at it gently to get Blaine to move closer. There was more he could say, but he didn't know how. It was probably best staying locked up, anyway.

Blaine heaved a sigh, stepping right into Kurt's personal space and leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead, clearly not caring who saw it. Kurt didn't care either; in that moment, not even the symphony's most important sponsor mattered to him more than the man standing right in front of him. "You're welcome," Blaine said softly, and squeezed Kurt's hand. Then he leaned back and gave Kurt a small, hopeful smile. "This party's getting a little dull, I think. Why don't you go get your violin and play something pretty for everybody?"

Kurt smiled back and nodded. "As long as you give me a stellar introduction?" he asked teasingly.

"You don't need an introduction, and you know it."

They both chuckled, and Kurt clasped his hand tighter once more before letting it go. He would pretend to play for the entire room, yes, but he knew Blaine had asked because _he_ wanted to hear him, and Kurt could never deny him that. 

He wasn't sure how much longer he could deny Blaine anything at all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Symphony AU. Kurt is the 27-year-old first violinist and concertmaster of the Oregon Symphony Orchestra in Portland. Blaine arrives in town to guest conduct their concert of Holst's The Planets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Livejournal January-March 2012. Masterpost: http://colfer.livejournal.com/47608.html

**Chapter 6 - "Lusingando"**

 

When Kurt went home to Salem for Thanksgiving weekend, his father had startling news for him. They were preparing dinner on Thursday - the meal wouldn't be too big, since it was just the two of them this year - when Burt announced, right out of the blue, "I met somebody."

Kurt looked up from the stuffing mix he was stirring and stared hard at his father, who was sitting on the other side of the kitchen island, shelling hard-boiled eggs to be deviled and wearing an expression that made his meaning quite clear. "Somebody female and special, I take it?" he asked, smiling slightly. When Burt nodded, Kurt's smile widened and he let go of his spoon. "Tell me."

Burt grinned sheepishly and concentrated on the eggs as he spoke. "Her name's Carole Hudson." Kurt almost interrupted him to ask if she had a son named Finn, but then figured it was a pretty common last name. "She's a new health teacher at the school this year, and she, uh..." He glanced around, as if other people might be listening, and Kurt had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes affectionately. "She teaches sex ed," Burt finished in a conspiratorial whisper, and Kurt's eyes went wide. "Yeah."

"At least that means she knows what she's doing?" Kurt asked in a similarly low voice, wiggling his eyebrows, and Burt tossed a bit of eggshell at him. "Sorry, sorry. Go on."

"Anyway, the administration was giving her a hard time because she wanted to include information on gay and lesbian sex in her classes. I heard about it, and I went to her and said, 'Hey, my son's gay so I really appreciate what you're trying to do here, let me know if I can help at all.' That was kind of my 'in,' so thanks a lot for liking boys." Now it was Kurt's turn to throw something - a sliver of celery, which Burt picked up from the counter where it landed and popped into his mouth before continuing. "She's a couple years younger than me, and she's a widow, no kids. Smart and pretty and we have the same taste in music and all that. We clicked really fast and it sort of snowballed, and I asked her out."

"And?!"

"And it's going great! We've been dating for about a month now."

"A _month?_ " Kurt exclaimed, dropping his spoon against the side of the bowl with a sharp _clack._ "We talk every week, why didn't you tell me before now?"

"I wanted to see your face," Burt replied, almost solemnly. "I wasn't sure how you'd take it."

Kurt softened, knowing exactly what he'd meant. "I think it's fantastic. Mom's been gone for 20 years. This is long overdue for you, Dad."

They held each other's eyes for a long moment. Kurt thought his father's might have been a little too bright, and he just reached across the counter to touch the back of Burt's hand wordlessly. Burt nodded slightly and cleared his throat. "Good. I just-- well, anyway."

"Can I meet her this weekend?"

"She went home to Texas. Maybe at Christmas, if she doesn't go out of town again?" Kurt nodded happily, and Burt smiled back at him. "Now that that's out of the way, what about you? What's the latest with this Blaine guy?"

Kurt tried not to wince as he turned his attention back to the mixing bowl. Shrugging, he said, "We're just keeping it casual."

"What do you mean? You've mentioned him every time I've talked to you for the last two months. I can tell you really like him, so I figured it was something serious by now."

Sighing, Kurt turned to get the Pyrex dish he needed out of a cabinet. "He's only in Portland until the end of the season, so I've told him I don't _want_ anything serious between us."

"So it's on you." 

Kurt set the Pyrex down on the counter a little harder than necessary and narrowed his eyes at his father. "Yes, it's on me. I'm allowed." He began spooning the stuffing mix into the pan, focusing on it as best he could. "I just don't want to get involved with somebody who's leaving town in a few months. There's nothing wrong with that."

For a minute, the only sounds in the room were the spoon scraping at the sides of the bowl and the soft cracks of eggshells breaking. Then Burt said quietly, "You only live once, Kurt. Life is too damn short. I finally just figured that out when I met Carole. You're a lot younger than I am, and you have a lot more years to go than I do. Don't do what I did and spend too many of them alone."

The mixing bowl, now empty, almost slipped from Kurt's grasp as he set it back down. He stared at his father, opening and closing his mouth a few times before finally answering him with a simple nod. It wasn't a 'you're right, you're absolutely right, I'll go call Blaine right now' nod, just a 'yes, I hear you,' and Kurt knew Burt understood that. 

Satisfied, his father placed the last peeled egg in the bowl with the rest and stood up to head toward the refrigerator, but as he passed Kurt, he laid a hand on his shoulder. Kurt put his own hand on top of it, holding him there for a few seconds, a gesture the two of them had repeated many times over the years. Burt squeezed Kurt's shoulder gently, patted it, and then rubbed his shoulder blade before pulling his hand away and walking to the fridge to get the mayonnaise and relish for the deviled eggs. Kurt let out a long, slightly shaky breath, and automatically opened the spice cabinet to get out the paprika - he liked his deviled eggs to be pretty.

 

Kurt had just come back into the living room with glasses of water for himself and Santana when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. "Sorry," he told Santana, pulling the phone out. "Thought I silenced it." She gave him a disdainful look, but after two lessons a week for almost nine months, he knew that was just her default expression.

The text was from Blaine, and Kurt quickly thumbed over the screen to read it. 

_Think I just saw Sebastian in Pioneer Square. Either him or some other tall handsome yuppie guy who literally turned around and ran when he saw me._

He grinned, unable to help himself. It was good to get such a carefree message from Blaine, who had been rather subdued since Thanksgiving. He wasn't melancholy, just quiet. Kurt assumed that some family dispute over the holiday was still troubling him, and he didn't feel quite comfortable asking about it so he just left Blaine to his own devices and didn't try to push him. Santana was busy double-checking the tuning of her violin strings - or at least she appeared to be - so he typed a rapid response: _I need a witness before I believe this story. About to start a lesson, call you after!_

"Okay," he said, after pressing send and turning off the phone's sound. "All yours."

Santana was watching him carefully as he sat down in the chair opposite hers and leaned over to pick up his own violin. "Was that text from your boyfriend?" she asked, managing to sound both bored and curious at the same time.

Kurt just looked at her with his mouth slightly open. He was used to her boldness by now, but he wasn't sure if discussing this topic with a twelve-year-old student wouldn't be frowned upon. After a moment, he decided that a simple answer was fairly harmless, and shook his head. "Just a friend."

"Do you _have_ a boyfriend?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it again and gazed at her with a faint smile. That she just knew he was gay without being told was kind of amusing, but he really shouldn't have been surprised. She was a bright kid, and anyway, kids these days were much more perceptive and open about such things than when Kurt himself had been her age. "No," he replied. "Not a serious one, I mean."

"Oh." She sat back in her chair, slouching a little with her violin resting on one knee and her bow across her lap. " _I_ have a boyfriend," she added smugly.

"Good for you," Kurt said, trying not to smile too much because she would know he was patronizing her. "Are we ready?" he asked, tapping her bow with the end of his.

She sighed heavily as she sat up straight again and then raised the bow, but put it back down immediately. "I have a girlfriend, too," she said quietly. "Not sure which one I like better."

Kurt again started to say something and then, very wisely, didn't. Definitely not a subject he wanted to wade into with a student. But he was spared from having to reply, because Santana lifted her instrument and at once launched into the Handel sonata they had been working on last week, and she played it so perfectly that Kurt soon forgot all about what she'd said.

 

It was the second week of December. The symphony's Christmas concert was set for that weekend, the program packed with standards that everyone in the orchestra had been playing since they were in middle school. Rehearsals were, therefore, almost a joke, but took place for the sake of continuity (and, Kurt suspected, to ensure that Blaine's CV was absolutely complete). 

On Tuesday afternoon, Kurt sent Blaine a text to see if he wanted to grab coffee before rehearsal, and tried not to be too disappointed when the answer was no. They had shared an early dinner the day before, so it wasn't as if Blaine was completely avoiding him. Maybe they had just reached some sort of plateau and Blaine was fully saturated, or maybe whatever had put him into this weird funk since Thanksgiving was affecting him more than it had yesterday. It didn't really matter, or at least that's what Kurt tried to tell himself. 

But even other people had begun to notice Blaine's low mood. During their first break, Kurt saw one of the flutists go to him and lay a comforting hand on his arm, speaking quietly, and Blaine gave her a small smile and shook his head. He seemed to perk up somewhat after that exchange, but was still nowhere near his usual cheerfulness. Kurt was starting to feel really worried now, and convinced himself to say something to Blaine after rehearsal. That he'd put it off for this long just made him look like a bad friend, on top of everything else.

After Blaine released them all, Kurt deliberately dawdled for a few minutes; taking extra care in cleaning his violin strings and putting the instrument into its case, double-checking that he had all of his sheet music in order, and making small talk with a couple of people. When most of the room had cleared, he took a deep breath and walked to Blaine, who was still seated at the conductor's podium, poring over sheet music with a pencil and a frown. Kurt thought he was only pretending to look busy.

"You look like you could use a drink," Kurt said lightly, trying to smile. 

Blaine glanced up at him, and then immediately back down to his pages. "I'm good, thanks, though." 

"You sure?" Kurt's heart was racing. It felt as if he were asking Blaine out for the first time, that queer hollowed-out sensation plaguing his stomach. "You've just..." He paused, swallowing, willing Blaine to look up at him. "I don't know, you've seemed odd lately. Like something's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong." Blaine's words were clipped, and Kurt felt as though he'd been slapped. "I'm just tired, that's all."

_You're lying, you're **lying.**_ Kurt started to say it out loud and bit his tongue just in time. "Okay," he murmured, defeated. Ordinarily he would have snapped at someone who was dismissing him like this, but for whatever reason, Blaine shutting him out hurt too much to want to bother. "See you tomorrow, then." He started to step past Blaine toward the door, hesitated, and turned to him again. "Call me if you feel like talking?"

"I will," Blaine said softly, still not looking at him. Kurt blinked back sudden tears, hating him and wanting to shake him, to force him to explain what was going on. But he just walked away, gripping the strap of his violin case tightly.

Maybe it was being in the rehearsal space that was preventing Blaine from opening up, he thought as he headed for the front doors. _Maybe if I just wait here for him, ambush him as he's leaving..._ Without giving himself time to change his mind, Kurt stopped in the lobby and set his violin case down on the floor beside a bench. Yes. He would give Blaine a few minutes to gather himself together, and hopefully then Kurt would be able to get through to him.

But after sitting there for ten minutes with no sign of Blaine, he began to get impatient. What was taking him so long? Then he remembered with a lurch that there were two other exits out of the building, even though the one he was near was the one he and Blaine always used and opened onto the street closest to Blaine's hotel. What if he had seen Kurt waiting here in the lobby, doubled back, and slipped out of another door? Kurt stood up abruptly and yanked his iPod earbuds out of his ears, snatched up his violin case, and stood stock-still trying to figure out what to do next when he heard what his iPod had blocked out: the sound of the piano in the rehearsal space being played.

He frowned, cocking his head to one side as he listened intently. The music was muffled, but he could tell at once that it wasn't anything on their Christmas program. And he knew it had to be Blaine, because the last stragglers from rehearsal had passed him while he waited. 

When he was halfway back down the hall to the rehearsal space, he recognized the song, or at least he remembered it as something popular from his college years. Some British band... Oasis? No, more mellow than that. It was on the tip of his tongue.

He stopped in the doorway, leaned against the jamb, and watched Blaine at the piano. Blaine's body was almost fully turned away from him, the piano angled just so for Kurt to be able to see his right hand and a bit of his face. He was playing from memory, and the music pounded through the room even though his fingers appeared to just barely glide over the keys. The passion was so great, so powerful, that Kurt found it difficult to breathe until the outro. He thought about clapping, but when he heard Blaine let out a loud sniffle, his hands froze at his sides.

_It's almost winter. He's just got a little bit of a cold,_ Kurt thought wildly, wondering why his brain felt an immediate need to justify the sound. 

Then Blaine sighed, touching the keys very lightly with the tips of his fingers as if he were about to play something else. But he jerked his hands into his lap and shook his head. 

"That was beautiful," Kurt said, surprising even himself.

Blaine jumped, his back stiffening as he raised his head but didn't look back at the doorway. "What are you doing here, did you forget something?" he asked tightly.

_Yes. You._ "I was waiting for you by the front door. But you didn't come, and then I heard you playing." Kurt waited for a response, and when none came, he added helpfully, "I love that song." _Please, just talk to me._

"Yeah," said Blaine, and sniffed again. "Yeah, it's one of my favorites." He looked back down at the piano keys, then chuckled dryly. "Here lately, though... it makes me think about you."

Kurt swallowed hard, his head tilting a little. "Does it? Why?" 

At last, Blaine turned to look at him, and his face was a study in wistfulness. He let out a quiet scoff, shook his head slightly, and placed his hands on the keys without looking away from Kurt, his fingers finding the right notes by instinct. He played the first line of the chorus, and then joined in with his voice on the second line, soft and plaintive.

_I'm getting old and I need something to rely on  
So tell me when you're gonna let me in._

His voice broke, but he gently tapped out the last few notes, his fingers faltering near the end so the phrase went unresolved.

"Blaine," Kurt whispered into the silence, too stunned to say anything but that one word, the most important one of all.

"Yeah, I know," Blaine murmured, now facing the keys again. "I know, it's stupid."

He couldn't think. Was _this_ the reason behind Blaine's recent strange behavior? Not some family argument over the holiday, not overwork or finances or stress about what he was going to do after the season was over, but Kurt himself? Kurt and his idiocy, his stubbornness, his selfish refusal to just reach out and grab hold of what was right there in front of him, something he already knew would be incredible? Was that it? 

Yes. Yes, it was. All Kurt had to do was look at Blaine's quivering shoulders and listen to the way his voice was cracking, and the answer was vibrantly, painfully obvious.

"...talked to my brother and his wife about it over Thanksgiving, and they both told me to go for it, to just sweep you off your feet, and I told them that's what I'd been trying to do since I got here. And that clearly hasn't been working, because we're still doing this. And I know you told me you didn't want to get involved because I'm leaving in May, I _know_ that, and I'm _sorry,_ I really am, but I can't help it, Kurt, I kind of _need_ you now."

Kurt was crossing the room, covering the space between them so rapidly that it felt as if his feet weren't even touching the floor, but it was still taking forever to get to him. Blaine turned to look at him, clearly thinking he was still standing in the doorway, and when he saw Kurt coming toward him he stood up quickly, the piano bench scraping against the floor and making an ugly sound that neither of them heard. The tear tracks on Blaine's cheeks hurt so much to see that Kurt almost stopped himself, then he realized that nothing, nothing short of a bomb falling onto the building, could prevent this from happening now. He coiled both arms around Blaine's neck, spared one tiny instant to stare deep into his eyes, those beautiful fucking eyes of his, and then kissed him, no hesitation, no regrets.

The first time he had kissed Blaine he'd been drunk, not fully there, and it had been nearly devastating even then. Kissing him now, completely sober and aware except for the wild rushing sound in his ears and the difficulty in catching his breath, was so overwhelming that he didn't know how he'd be able to get through a single day without it. 

Blaine sagged against his body, letting out a whimpering sigh against his mouth that Kurt never wanted to stop hearing. He crossed his arms behind Blaine's neck and clasped his elbows with the opposite hands, pulling Blaine flush against him as their tongues slid together gracefully, tasting of want and warmth. He was so stupid, so _stupid_ to have waited so long. So much wasted time, when time was already short. His father had been right, as he nearly always was.

Kurt broke the kiss to tell Blaine this, mumbling against his mouth that he was such an asshole and that he was so sorry, so fucking sorry. "It's okay, it's okay," Blaine gasped, pressing tiny kisses to his lips between words. "I should have done more, I should've..."

But whatever he should have done was lost in another frantic kiss, and Kurt felt Blaine's hands on either side of his face, cradling it, and the sweetness of the gesture made him sway on the spot. Blaine laughed softly, quickly placing one hand at the small of Kurt's back to hold him steady, and Kurt sighed into the kiss, clutching at Blaine even more tightly. 

"So you're not mad at me?" Blaine asked, speaking right against Kurt's lips.

" _Mad_ at you, why? No, God..."

"For pushing you like this," he murmured, kissing Kurt again. "For ignoring what you said you wanted."

Kurt pulled back with difficulty to look at him, and seeing Blaine's flushed face, bright eyes, and lips already fuller and redder than usual made it hard to remember how to speak. "What I wanted was ridiculous. _Wanted,_ past tense."

"What do you want now?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, smirking at Blaine, at this adorable idiot. "I want this," he said softly, tracing the line of Blaine's jaw with a fingertip, trailing it down to the small patch of skin visible at his open shirt collar. "I want you. I always have, I just tried to ignore it."

"I've wanted you for weeks," Blaine whispered, staring at Kurt's mouth. "I mean-- not for sex. It's not like that, not like before." Kurt arched an eyebrow, knowing what he had meant, but wanting to hear him say it, wanting to watch him get flustered. "I-- _yes,_ for sex, but for _more_ than that," Blaine went on, blushing instantly. "For everything. I want you for everything. I want to _be_ with you."

"That's what I want, too." Kurt sealed his words with another kiss, as gentle as he could make it, but Blaine let out that little sound again and Kurt felt his knees actually wobble. "Let's go home," he said, making up his mind at once. "Now, let's go right now."

Blaine blinked at him. "Home?"

"To my place. Please."

"My hotel is right over there--"

"No." Kurt shook his head firmly. "I want you in my house. In my bed."

Blaine just stared, and for one awful second Kurt thought he was going to refuse. But then he whispered, "Okay," sounding awed, and Kurt smiled with relief and kissed him yet again.

After Blaine had hurriedly stuffed everything he needed into his messenger bag, he and Kurt headed for the front door, their fingers tightly interlaced. Not even the blast of December air on his face could chill the heat coursing through him. He couldn't stop grinning, relishing that sweet fluttery feeling in his belly that made him feel like a teenager again. As they passed the Schnitz and drew close to the Heathman, Blaine tugged gently at Kurt's hand. "I want to run up to my room really quick anyway. For some clothes?" he asked, sounding hopeful and just unsure enough to make Kurt want to stop him right there on the sidewalk and kiss him again. "And my toothbrush?" he added, and Kurt laughed.

"Yes, I think you'll need those," he replied, giving Blaine a wink that said everything his words hadn't. _Bring everything you'll want for the next couple of days, honey, because you're not leaving my sight._

Kurt waited for him outside the hotel ("It's freezing!" Blaine protested, but Kurt told him that if he even went into the lobby he'd want to go upstairs and then they'd never leave), and Blaine was back in less than five minutes. He burst out of the door before the doorman could open it for him and, beaming, went straight to Kurt, put his arms around him, and kissed him passionately in full sight of everyone passing them. When he let go, Kurt pretended to stagger, clutching his head woozily, and even the doorman smiled and tipped his ridiculous top hat at them.

He hoped that Blaine wouldn't want to be one of _those couples_ and try to make out during the entire train ride home. Frankly, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to resist. But luckily Blaine was all innocence and long happy sighs as he sat next to Kurt, pressed right against his side with his head leaning on Kurt's shoulder, their hands still entwined. Kurt kissed Blaine's hairline a couple of times, and Blaine tilted his head back to smile sweetly up at him, but that was all. They were saving the rest for privacy.

And the four-block walk from the MAX station to Kurt's house had never taken longer. He wanted to run, to _sprint,_ dragging Blaine along with him, racing to the safe confines of his house as if zombies were after them. But at the same time, there was something quietly wonderful about strolling hand-in-hand with Blaine along the street where Kurt had lived for most of his adult life, where he had never felt anything remotely close to what he felt now. The anticipation was making him dizzy. And while Blaine chattered away happily about how excited he was to finally see the inside of Kurt's house (he'd been to the door many times, but no further) and to meet Quinn and to be in the space where Kurt practiced, Kurt could only think about how quickly they could get to the bedroom.

"Would you like a tour?" he asked demurely once they were inside, unwinding his scarf from his neck and hanging it up, then holding his hand out for Blaine's coat.

Blaine gave him a look, an _I see you trying to be polite, it won't work_ smirk, and shook his head slowly. "Maybe tomorrow," he murmured, waiting until Kurt had removed his coat to step in close to him, resting his hands at Kurt's hips as he kissed him. Kurt moaned softly, draping his arms over Blaine's shoulders and leaning fully into him, knowing that Blaine could hold his weight. The only other sounds were the quiet ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece and the tinkle of the bell on Quinn's collar as she entered the room and began sniffing around their feet, unnoticed by either of them. 

Kurt tugged Blaine's lower lip between his teeth, biting down just enough to make Blaine hiss and press his hips forward. _Why_ had he waited so long for this? He curled a hand around the back of Blaine's neck and sunk the fingers of the other into the curls at the crown of Blaine's head, massaging his scalp gently and pulling another of those incredible sounds from him. Blaine broke the kiss with a soft gasp, resting their foreheads together and humming, while Kurt smoothed a hand down his back and Blaine's fingertips curled into Kurt's belt loops. "God," he murmured, and Kurt just smiled, knowing exactly how he felt. 

"I know," he said softly, and pressed a kiss to the corner of Blaine's mouth. "I know."

They paused just long enough to let Blaine give Quinn a little 'hello' pat on the head and for her to sniff at his hand, and then Kurt was pulling him down the hall to his bedroom, leaving Quinn to stare curiously after them. "She'll probably join us in here at some point," Kurt said breathlessly. "Or maybe not, I don't know, I haven't had a guy over since I got her."

"You haven't?" Blaine sounded honestly surprised, and as Kurt rested his forearms on Blaine's shoulders for balance so he could toe off his shoes, he went on, "But didn't you get her way back in May? I thought that's what you told me..."

"That's right." Now Kurt was leading him by the hand to the bed, not really listening. Talking was wasted breath. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Blaine to stand in front of him, lifting Blaine's shirt just enough to expose a few inches of bare stomach, and sighed happily as he leaned in to kiss it. He heard Blaine hiss in a sharp breath above him, and imagined his head falling back on his neck, his eyes rolling blissfully shut. He sucked lightly at a soft spot, licking over it before moving to a new place, both palms pressed to Blaine's back under his shirt. So much skin to explore. Just thinking about it made him moan out loud.

Blaine's fingers were moving gently through Kurt's hair, not quite _holding_ his head against his stomach but certainly making sure it stayed there. Several minutes passed before he spoke again, sounding as if he were coming out of a dream. "But you've been with other guys lately, right?"

Kurt paused in the middle of a wet, open-mouthed kiss to Blaine's hipbone and sat back enough to look up at him. "What?"

"You said nobody's been here since May," Blaine said patiently. "That just means you went to their places, doesn't it?"

Oh. _Oh._ Kurt felt his cheeks grow hot instantly, and he wanted to just bury his face in Blaine's stomach again. "No," he mumbled. "I haven't... I haven't been with anybody since you. Not for sex, anyway."

Blaine's eyes widened and a slow, pleased smile spread over his face. "Well, thank God, because I felt really lame." Kurt stared at him, confused, and started to ask, but Blaine bent down swiftly and put a finger to his lips. "I haven't been with anyone either," he whispered. "I was too hung up on you all spring and summer, not ready to move on yet, and then I came back here, and you know I haven't been out with anybody else." He kissed Kurt then, soft yet insistent, as if wanting to cut off any response Kurt might have had. And Kurt allowed it since he had no idea what to say that wouldn't have just come out as a lot of incoherent babbling, because _Blaine had waited for him._

Soon they were both sprawled on the bed, Kurt on his back with Blaine pressing him into the mattress, all of their clothes still miraculously on, sharing long, slow, deep, _wet, warm_ kisses for what felt like hours. Blaine's lips moved over every inch of Kurt's face and neck, and dipped as low as the hollows of his collarbones without undoing any buttons on his shirt, but that was all. Then Kurt, too dizzy to really attempt such a maneuver, turned the two of them over to give Blaine the same treatment, being good even though his hips were soon rolling smoothly against Blaine's and clothing would really need to be removed soon or things would get messy.

"Do you remember, back then," Blaine asked softly, his words hitching slightly as Kurt licked over his Adam's apple. "When I asked how long it had been since you just made out with someone?"

Kurt smiled against Blaine's throat and hummed out an _"mmhmm"_ before wrapping his lips around Blaine's right earlobe. 

"We're only ten months late," Blaine said, laughing a little, and then let out a low, sweet whimper as Kurt sucked harder at his ear, his shoulder rolling up.

"Oh, we're not stopping at this," Kurt assured him, kissing his cheek and slipping a hand under his shirt to lay it against his belly. "I promise you we're not."

"I know, but it's nice, isn't it?"

Kurt just smiled at him, and then pulled his hand out again so he could rest his forearms on either side of Blaine's head, framing it as he hovered above him. "You're amazing," he murmured, pressing a very light kiss to Blaine's mouth. "Just... God." Blaine made a small shushing sound and kissed him back harder, his hands on Kurt's back sliding down to cup his ass, and Kurt's hips drove down automatically, making them both dissolve into giggles. "What happened to, 'oh, this is so nice, let's just do this'?" Kurt teased, pressing his crotch down onto Blaine's, and grinning at the gasp that pulled from him. 

"I'm an idiot," Blaine groaned, pushing hard at Kurt's ass cheeks and beginning to move against him, creating more friction that Kurt was really ready for, but no way was he going to stop them. Their kisses became more frantic as they found an easy rhythm, Blaine clutching at the back of Kurt's thighs as Kurt ground down onto him, neither of them holding anything back now. "Want to suck you," Blaine moaned, trying to squeeze a hand between them to get at Kurt's zipper. 

But Kurt shook his head, sitting up and slapping his hand away. Blaine whined, lifting his hips in protest and making Kurt bounce a little. "I didn't get to do you last time," Kurt said slowly, tracing the button at Blaine's waistband with a fingertip. "It's _my_ turn." Blaine stopped moving and just stared up at him, his lips wet and slightly open, his hair a wreck and his cheeks flushed, and he looked _delicious._ Debauched and gorgeous and still with all of his clothes on, Christ, how good would he look when Kurt got him naked?

Stifling a moan, Kurt slid down Blaine's legs so he could get to work on his pants, and Blaine sat up to helpfully remove his shirt and then to pull at Kurt's. They had to pause in the middle for another long, searing kiss, during which Quinn wandered into the bedroom and jumped lightly onto the bed, neither of them noticing her for several seconds. "Maybe she's kinky and likes to watch," Blaine said, almost breathless, and Kurt just growled and dove back into the kiss, paying her no mind at all. (She got back down after a minute, not liking being ignored, and Kurt had no idea where she went afterward and didn't really care as long as she didn't interrupt them again.)

He lavished attention on Blaine's torso, sucking at each perfect nipple and licking along the lines of his hipbones, and nuzzled his face into Blaine's belly again for as long as he could before Blaine's cock became too hard to not be noticed. With a deep, happy sigh, Kurt sunk his mouth over it, beaming as the sound of Blaine's moans filled his ears. Blaine lifted his hips, forcing Kurt to take all of him, which Kurt did gladly, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked and wrapped his right hand around the base of Blaine's dick, pushing his hip down again with the other. He pulled back to concentrate on just the tip, mouthing around it and flicking his tongue hard into the slit, and Blaine groaned again, fisting the duvet with both hands.

Kurt knew from experience that Blaine rather liked sucking cock, and was glad to find that he liked receiving just as much, because he wanted to stay here for a while. He tried everything, seeing what worked best, what made Blaine moan and what made him gasp and what made him let out strings of tiny, breathless whimpers. When Kurt quickly sucked a fingertip into his mouth to wet it and pressed it against Blaine's hole, Blaine's legs fell open as if commanded, and Kurt smiled wickedly, rubbing at his entrance as he ran his tongue up and down the sides of Blaine's cock in long, luxurious stripes. He started to push inside, but Blaine whined for him not to, that he wanted to fuck Kurt and soon, and if he fingered him he would come in seconds. That was all Kurt needed to hear. He pulled off, grinning up at him as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and kissed up the length of Blaine's body to his lips. "Is now soon enough?" he whispered, and Blaine couldn't even answer with words, just another groan, grabbing hold of Kurt's upper arms and rolling him onto his back.

Something shifted between them then, between the change in position and the next time their lips met, when they stared into each other's eyes and for the first time, Kurt knew he was really seeing Blaine. Vulnerable and needy and warm and impatient and wholly open - all of these attributes were completely clear to Kurt, all rolled into one endless moment. Blaine's lips were trembling when he kissed him, and Kurt smoothed a hand over one of his shoulder blades, trying to soothe him, trying to soothe them both, because he could feel himself shaking, too. They'd waited so long - he had _made_ Blaine wait for so long - and now that it was finally here, he wasn't sure if he could deal with it. He wasn't sure if he would ever be ready for the immensity of what was between them. Blaine had come back to Portland _for him._ For the job, yes, but it was mostly for him. That someone would do that, that someone as beautiful inside and out as Blaine would _do that,_ was too much to take in at once, and Kurt pulled back from the kiss with a low whimper, just leaning his forehead against Blaine's and holding him close.

"Tell me," Blaine murmured, stroking Kurt's upper arms with his palms. 

"Do you believe in fate?" It wasn't what he'd intended to say, but it was what came out, and he didn't stop it.

Blaine's answer was sharp and immediate. "Yes. Of course." Kurt blinked up at him, his lips parting in a wordless request for him to go on. "Coming here... back in February, that was meant to happen, I think. Because I met you. And Sue contacting me about coming back was the biggest, brightest neon sign I'd ever seen. I'm _supposed_ to be here." He kissed the corner of Kurt's mouth, and whispered against his cheek, "With you."

Kurt nodded, his eyes shut and a small smile playing across his face, and he let out a long, deep breath through his nose. "Do _you_ believe in fate?" Blaine asked softly, now brushing his lips over Kurt's closed eyelids. 

He hummed quietly, still smiling. "I do now."

Blaine laced their fingers together and pressed Kurt's hand into the pillow above his head as he slid into him, Kurt letting out tiny huffing breaths right against Blaine's mouth that ended in a shaky sigh when Blaine could go no further. They moved together slowly, more focused on kissing than on anything else, until Kurt begged softly for more and Blaine hooked Kurt's right leg over his arm, opening him wide. Kurt swung his other leg up too, allowing Blaine to bend him nearly in half, and clutched at Blaine's back as he began to rock in and out of him. When Blaine sat up too much and was too far away, Kurt coiled a hand into his hair and pulled him back down, their mouths colliding, and he sucked hard at Blaine's tongue while Blaine just let out moan after moan. 

They were pressed too tightly for either of them to get a hand between them to take care of Kurt, but it didn't matter; the friction caused by the closeness of their bodies was plenty. And Blaine's cock inside of him was more than enough - that cheeky text from so long ago about not being " _that_ small" hadn't been a lie. Kurt didn't think he'd ever been filled so completely, so _perfectly._ Even as he kept pleading with Blaine to go harder, to fuck him faster, demands to not stop and to make this last were mixed in - a jumbled, blubbering mess that Blaine soon simply silenced by kissing him again.

Blaine came first, as they'd both hoped, and it rushed on him so suddenly that he was barely able to pull out of Kurt in time. He slid down at once and pressed his face into Kurt's stomach, trying to catch his breath, while Kurt stroked his shoulders and bit his lip to keep from rolling his hips upward to get any sort of relief. Blaine didn't make him wait long, though. After only a moment he was sweeping Kurt's cock into his mouth, making Kurt gasp out sharply, his head snapping back on the pillow and a broken laugh spilling from his throat. He plunged both hands into Blaine's hair, pulling at it and making the curls even wilder, wanting to see him as disheveled as possible when he pulled out of his mouth and came on his face.

But Blaine wasn't going to allow that. When Kurt began to whine that he was close, Blaine just grinned around him and slid both hands beneath Kurt's body, cupping his ass cheeks and lifting him, pressing Kurt as deep into his mouth as he could go. Kurt was practically yanking at Blaine's hair now, his voice rising almost to a yell as he chanted Blaine's name, and when his release hit at last Blaine let out a deep, ecstatic moan around him, swallowing down every last drop.

Kurt could barely see, letting out a series of faint whines as he groped for Blaine, needing him as close as possible. Blaine obligingly kissed up his body and settled next him with a soft sigh, chuckling when Kurt immediately curled into his side. He kissed Kurt's forehead, leaving his lips there, and their breathing seemed nearly synchronized as they slowly relaxed, cooling down, coming to terms with what had just happened. Kurt never, ever wanted him to leave. He didn't want either of them to leave this house, this room, this _bed,_ for any reason at all.

"I'm making you breakfast in the morning," Blaine mumbled a little while later, after Kurt had pulled the duvet over them and they were wrapped together tightly. 

Kurt hummed, sleepy and sated. "What can you cook?"

"I'm kind of awesome at cereal..." Laughing, Kurt smacked his arm weakly. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Well, what do you have in the kitchen? No, wait." Blaine pulled back an inch or two, just enough to be able to look into Kurt's eyes. "Do you have milk, and eggs, and bread..." He smiled, bending to kiss Kurt's mouth, and then spoke against it. "And cinnamon..." Another kiss. "And maple syrup?" Another.

"I do," Kurt whispered, then gasped quietly as it clicked. "French toast?"

"French toast."

"That's _perfect,_ " Kurt said dreamily, curling a hand gently around the back of Blaine's head to get him to tuck it back down against his shoulder. "Ooh, actually, not maple syrup. I have some blackberry honey from Steven."

Blaine let out a soft moan of anticipation and peppered Kurt's shoulder with kisses, then the side of his neck. "Amazing. Yeah, let's save the syrup to lick off of each other."

"It's _pure_ maple syrup, Blaine. Expensive. And organic."

"And this is a problem because...?" Kurt pinched him. "You're no fun."

"I'm tons of fun, shut up. Go to sleep."

"I can't promise I won't wake you up in the middle of the night for more sex."

"Well, I certainly hope you do."

 

But they both slept straight through until morning, and they couldn't complain because it had been the best sleep either of them could remember in years. After sharing a long shower where much more kissing was done than bathing, Kurt bundled Blaine up in his own robe and pulled on boxers and a t-shirt, and then they headed into the kitchen.

Blaine's French toast was a bit burnt, but Kurt just drowned his portion in honey to compensate and drank a giant glass of orange juice. Quinn joined them at the table, more interested in Blaine than in trying to get a taste of their food, and Blaine scratched the top of her head while she purred happily and then crawled right into his lap. "She might stay there for hours, watch out," Kurt warned, but Blaine just laughed and bent at the waist to kiss her nose.

After Kurt had washed up their breakfast dishes, however, Quinn was unceremoniously moved to the floor when Kurt leaned over Blaine's shoulder from behind, wrapped his fingers in the neck of his robe, and kissed him fiercely. The taste of mingled blackberry and orange was heady in Blaine's mouth and Kurt was ready to just throw him to the kitchen floor, or possibly shove him right onto the table. Blaine managed to get them back to the bedroom, the two of them leaving a trail of clothing down the hall, and Kurt barely waited until Blaine was settled on the bed before taking him into his mouth for an even more impressive blowjob than the night before. It couldn't be _too_ good though, because he wanted Blaine to ride him.

It was quiet this time, slow and exquisite, with all four of their hands clasped and resting on Kurt's stomach. They barely broke eye contact, holding each other's gaze even when Blaine at last began to move, and Kurt nearly bit through his own lip as he held himself back. Blaine was so tight, so hot and silky inside, and Kurt found himself already fast-forwarding to a time when there wouldn't have to be a condom between them, when it could just be the two of them. Sweat ran down Blaine's body in rivulets that Kurt wanted to sit up and lick away, but then Blaine let go of his hands and pressed his palms to Kurt's chest for balance as he started rocking harder against him. Kurt could only grasp Blaine's hips and guide him, trapped against the mattress, not about to break Blaine's rhythm. A minute later, when Blaine cried out for Kurt to touch him, please, _please,_ Kurt curled his fingers around him and stroked lightly, instinctively knowing that Blaine only needed the barest contact right now. Blaine whined through tightly closed lips, his eyes wide and his lashes wet as he stared down at Kurt, lifting almost all the way up before slamming his body back down. When he came it was the most beautiful thing Kurt had ever seen, stunning him so deeply that he himself began to come without even realizing it, no time to pull out of him or warn him at all, but it was okay, it was what Blaine wanted, what they both somehow _needed._

And then Blaine leaned over him, his arms trembling as he tried to lower his weight slowly and not just crash down, and kissed Kurt so tenderly that it nearly broke his already overwhelmed heart.

 

They fell back to sleep that way, with Blaine curled up on top of him and Kurt only moving enough to remove the condom, tie it off, and toss it somewhere to the floor. When he woke up an hour later Blaine was still there, only half-laying on him now and one leg thrown across Kurt's hips. He kissed Blaine awake, stroking his bicep and then his cheek, and was about to roll him onto his back and suck his cock again when Blaine's eyes fluttered open and a soft, sleepy smile spread over his face. "Hi again," he mumbled, so sweetly that Kurt almost cooed. 

It was only 11:00 and they had plenty of time, so Kurt pulled the duvet back over them both. They turned on their sides facing each other, just looking and touching gently, and maybe kissing a little, just a little. Neither of them said anything for nearly half an hour, and it was Blaine who spoke up at last, saying what Kurt had been expecting since they'd woken up before breakfast. 

"Just so I'm clear - so we're both clear," he murmured, tracing a light circle around one of Kurt's nipples. "This is for real this time, right? We? Us?"

Kurt couldn't help it - just hearing those last two words made him shiver in the most delightful way. "Absolutely," he sighed, closing his eyes and nodding. 

"Even though..." Blaine stopped, and Kurt heard him swallow. 

"Life is too short," Kurt said carefully. "I'd rather have you for a little while than not at all."

Blaine kissed him then, a slow sweet kiss full of gratitude and promise. "Good," he whispered, and took Kurt's hand in his, curling it against his chest as he moved back again and smiled at him.

There was much more that could have been said right then - a recitation of what Sue had told Kurt back in the summer about the person who would be chosen for this guesting position, how they'd really be doing a season-long audition in preparation for possibly replacing Will - but Kurt chose not to tell him. Not now. It was too soon for that. Right now they needed to just bask in the newness of this, and appreciate what they _did_ know for sure: the next few months were going to be fantastic.

They just kissed for a little while, their lips only separating for long enough to mumble saccharine affirmations and compliments to each other, and once when Quinn leapt onto the bed and tried to get between them, Kurt had to admonish her. She refused to leave, though, and Blaine, laughing softly, began petting her and making weird little baby-voice noises at her, so Kurt just rolled his eyes and let it happen. "I need to practice anyway," he said with a sigh, and started to throw the duvet off, but Blaine caught his wrist.

"No, you don't. Don't get up."

"I _have_ to, Blaine. I play every day."

"You're going to play tonight at rehearsal!"

Kurt laughed, shaking his head. "That's not the same thing. I've played every single day since I was five years old. Even when I have the flu. Even when I broke my leg!" 

Blaine groaned and pressed his lips to the top of Quinn's head, staring up at Kurt mournfully. "Fine," he mumbled, and then suddenly his face brightened. "I've never heard you play outside of rehearsals or concerts anyway, yeah, go ahead!"

Kurt eyed him suspiciously, wondering what this sudden turnaround was about. "Okay..." he said slowly, and kept his eyes on Blaine as he slid out of bed. 

He had brought his violin case into the bedroom earlier, already knowing that he wouldn't want to have to go too far to get it when he was ready to play. He leaned against the dresser, still naked, as he checked the tuning, and to his surprise he heard Blaine sigh contentedly as his fingers strummed across the strings. He glanced up. Blaine was sitting up, Quinn still curled up in the same spot beside him, but his hand was just resting on her back now, no longer petting. "I'm not even _playing_ yet," Kurt said with a touch of exasperation.

"I know," Blaine sighed again. "I'm just getting ready for it."

And then Kurt got it. He remembered that startling revelation he'd had at Rachel's dinner party, and thought about all the times since then that he'd surreptitiously checked Blaine while he was playing to see him watching Kurt with that same lovesick expression Finn had worn as he listened to Rachel sing. That look was on Blaine's face now, along with something else that Kurt wasn't quite sure about. Not quite eagerness and not quite, well, _lust,_ but close. 

"Blaine," he said coyly. "Does it turn you on when I play?"

"Uh-huh."

Kurt's eyes widened. The answer had been so deadpan that it couldn't possibly be a lie. Too surprised to reply, he just cleared his throat loudly and continued to check his tuning, flipping through song selections in his mind as if searching a stack of albums. He thought about playing something blatantly sexy; "Por Una Cabeza," maybe, but that really sounded better with a piano, too. Then it hit him. He smiled to himself at the irony - he'd played one movement from _The Four Seasons_ when he was _frustrated_ by Blaine, and now he would play a different one to butter him up. Without a single thought about clothes, he stepped into the middle of the bedroom, tucked the violin under his chin, and lifted his bow.

Blaine hummed approvingly after only a few notes, obviously recognizing the piece. _Winter,_ III. Allegro, the conclusion. Kurt kept his eyes closed, swaying lightly with his bow as he traversed the scales and actually going up onto his toes as if he were trying to carefully walk through the icy storm the music suggested. He wished he had other violins playing along with him to get the full effect, but had forgotten it by the time the piece reached its pinnacle: the rapid, dangerous progression of notes that needed little imagination to hear as a bitter, swirling wind. He played it a bit brighter than usual, making it a _cheerful_ swirling wind, and was smiling broadly by the final note. Blaine burst into applause and Kurt's eyes flew open, the two of them beaming at each other, and Kurt almost poked his crotch with his bow as he gave a quick half-bow. 

"Not used to playing in the buff, huh?" Blaine asked teasingly, holding out both arms for Kurt to fold himself into.

Kurt laughed, shaking his head, and carefully set his violin down on the top of the dresser before joining Blaine back on the bed. Quinn had left, he noticed, and he almost made a pouting comment about her flouncing off in the middle of a fine performance, but then Blaine was kissing him, kissing him warm and sweet and deep, and all thought of pouting over _anything_ flew right out of Kurt's head. 

He sighed against Blaine's mouth, sinking his left hand into Blaine's curls as he delicately groped under the duvet with his right, trying to find Blaine's cock. This proved much more difficult than he expected, and when his fingers finally closed around it, he broke the kiss in surprise and yanked the duvet aside. "You're not hard!"

Blaine scoffed lightly, glancing down at himself. "Uh... I'm sorry, should I be? You're an awesome kisser, don't get me wrong, but I can't--"

"You said listening to me play turns you on! I thought I'd come back to bed and find you all ready to go."

Laughing now, Blaine shook his head. "Of course it does, but not like _that._ Just, you know..." He waved a hand in the air, grasping for words. "It's thrilling, it's exciting, it's moving. Yes, your playing _moves_ me, Kurt." He smiled, taking one of Kurt's hands as if in apology. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"Yes, I'm very disappointed," Kurt sniffed, turning his head away so Blaine wouldn't see his telltale smirk, and then sighed dramatically. "Well, if just listening to me didn't get you hard, I guess we'll have to accomplish it in a more traditional manner."

And before Blaine could react or utter a single sound, Kurt had pounced, pinning him to the bed and vowing that _now_ neither of them were getting up until the absolute last minute before rehearsal tonight. "I think you should cancel it," Kurt mused, cutting off whatever Blaine's reply might have been with a kiss. 

There were much, _much_ more enjoyable things they could be rehearsing instead.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Symphony AU. Kurt is the 27-year-old first violinist and concertmaster of the Oregon Symphony Orchestra in Portland. Blaine arrives in town to guest conduct their concert of Holst's The Planets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Livejournal January-March 2012. Masterpost: http://colfer.livejournal.com/47608.html

**Chapter 7 - "Sforzando"**

 

All at once, Kurt's life had transformed into the one he'd always wanted but never honestly thought he could have. Flower deliveries twice a week. Long, romantic, candlelit dinners. Morning cuddles followed by lazy breakfasts and then a return to the bed for more snuggling. Having someone there beside him every night, and still there when he woke up, and moreover someone who actually _wanted_ to be there instead of staying because they felt guilty or obligated. 

All of that and more, stupid little things he'd never really thought about before but now were too sweet to ever live without: designated sides of the bed, sharing the bathroom sink to brush their teeth, going to the _grocery store_ together, for heaven's sake. It was the very definition of domestic bliss and Kurt was delightedly rolling around in it, almost physically unable to keep from smiling every minute of the day. 

(Of course, having incredible sex every single day - usually more than once - helped quite a lot. One memorable morning, Kurt was roused awake by the sensation of Blaine's tongue in his ass. He cancelled both of his lessons for the day and neither of them left the bed. Had his violin not already been resting on one of the nightstands, he wouldn't have played it, force of habit or not.)

This change, this _life-melding_ happened so quickly and so easily that it should have scared him. But in less than a month, they were close enough for Blaine to feed Quinn himself and to know where everything was in the kitchen, and Kurt could not have been more comfortable with it. 

Since Kurt had commitments to his students (and his cat), Blaine all but abandoned the hotel room that the symphony was paying a pretty penny for and spent most nights at Kurt's house with him. They did stay at the Heathman occasionally, when Kurt couldn't resist the allure of being able to order raspberry cheesecake from room service at two o'clock in the morning if he wanted. Excluding Christmas they only slept separately twice, when Blaine, unaccustomed to Portland's wet weather, caught a nasty cold and didn't want to get Kurt sick, too. Those two nights alone were the loneliest Kurt could ever remember, and on the third day he went with Blaine into the hotel room after rehearsal instead of retreating back down the hallway to the elevator, and quieted Blaine's protests with a kiss as he closed the door behind them.

He stopped reminding himself that he only had Blaine until May, choosing to focus instead on all the lost time they needed to make up for.

 

At first Blaine had been hesitant about making their relationship known to the orchestra, worried that it might cause friction or that Sue would object when she inevitably found out. But Kurt assured him - with almost 100% certainty - that most members thought they were already together anyway and didn't care. When they walked into rehearsal hand-in-hand for the first time and half of the room began applauding, Kurt felt justified in giving Blaine's shoulder a knowing little nudge. _Told you so._

Later, during a break, Kurt sauntered over to Blaine's podium and spoke softly to him, just sweet little nothings about how happy he was and how adorable Blaine looked, especially since the color that had risen in his cheeks when they walked in hadn't completely left his face yet. Blaine grinned back at him, glanced around, and then slung both arms around Kurt's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Kurt didn't think twice about it, responding rather eagerly and resting his hands at Blaine's waist, smiling against his mouth. 

"Jeez, get a room, you two." 

They broke apart and looked toward Noah, who had spoken the words in a half-teasing, half-admonitory tone and was watching them with an expression that wasn't _quite_ a smirk. He was wrapping reeds for his oboe and seemed rather pleased by their surprise. "Don't get me wrong, it's about time and everything. Y'all are just kind of sickeningly cute and I'm trying to concentrate here."

Blaine appeared too shocked to say anything, and Kurt knew he was still a little intimidated by Noah anyway, who had extended the "let's haze the new guy" phase a bit longer than really necessary when Blaine first arrived in town. Kurt gave his hip a gentle squeeze and said coolly, "It's only the first night, so we're just getting started. You might want to think about bringing a barf bag to rehearsal."

Noah cackled, rolling his eyes. "Might bring a bucket."

Thereafter, Noah decided it was on him to keep the two of them in line. Whenever he thought they were getting a little too cozy, he blew sharply into a finished reed - the sound was very similar to a duck's quack - and they would spring apart, glaring at him. After a week of this, Blaine threatened to hold all of his extra reeds hostage at the conductor's stand until he needed a new one, and Noah reluctantly quit doing it - for a while, anyway.

All in all, their colleagues were very pleased that they'd finally gotten their act together (Kurt suspected most of them knew that he had been the one dragging his feet) and were generous with their congratulations and inquiries about how things were going. When Sue got wind of it, she called Blaine under the guise of "just checking in" and then proceeded to berate him for not telling her as soon as it happened. Kurt was sitting beside him at the time and could hear her clearly, burying his face into Blaine's shoulder to hide his smile. Sue either knew he was there or just made an educated guess because she told Blaine to put her on speaker. "The next Meet the Artists night?" she barked. "You're both going to play. _Duets._ Mr. Anderson, start polishing your viola. I'll have pieces for the two of you by the end of the week."

Kurt and Blaine just stared at each other with their mouths open, and then both started to speak at the same time. 

"Sue, that's not rea--"

"If you're joking I swear to G--"

They stopped at the same moment and gaped at each other again, both smiling crookedly. Sue's burst of laughter made them jump. "No, Kurt, I'm not joking. I've been waiting for an excuse to show the two of you off together and here it is."

Blaine still looked apprehensive. "Sue, I appreciate the opportunity, but really, my playing has always been average. It would be best for everyone if I just stick to conducting."

Dismayed, Kurt elbowed him and put on a pout. Blaine gave him an apologetic smile and added, "And besides, it wouldn't be fair to Steven. He's your first viola."

"Don't you worry about old Bees. He's the one who told me how good you are, anyway. I'm a little miffed that you've played for him and not me, but I digress. It's happening, no backing out." Sue paused and then said, "I'll also pick out something that you can do on piano if that makes you feel better."

Blaine grimaced, and Kurt understood why - letting him play _two_ instruments in such a setting would only make it _more_ unfair, but there was no talking Sue out of this. 

She chose three pieces for them: Handel-Halvorsen's "Passacaglia" for viola and violin, Beethoven's Violin Sonata No. 5 to be accompanied by piano, and, at Kurt's daring suggestion, "Por Una Cabeza," again with piano. The latter was traditionally performed by a string quartet, but worked quite well as a duet, too. It had been on Kurt's mind since that morning he'd played for Blaine while naked, and he hoped that playing it _with_ Blaine would have the effect he expected. The tango could be extremely sexy in the right hands, as everyone knew.

Blaine was very nervous; he hadn't played in front of an audience for several years. In spite of Kurt's reminders that this wasn't going to be a _real_ audience, just a few dozen donors, their sex life took a bit of a nosedive due to all of the practicing Blaine insisted upon. _At least we're still spending time together,_ Kurt reasoned, and bore Blaine's anxiety with as much patience as he could. 

Naturally, the performances went off without a hitch. Neither of them used sheet music for the Handel, but when Blaine sat at the piano he did have the music for Beethoven just in case. Kurt needed nothing at all - it was always much more impressive to play by memorization. Besides, he wanted to be able to focus on Blaine as much as possible. Not only to calm Blaine's nerves, but because a true duet was that much richer when the performers worked _together_ , feeding off of each other's energy for a symbiotic creation. He and Blaine were nearly seamless in every other way so he had little doubt this would be the same, and he wasn't wrong. There were moments when they were so intent on each other that Kurt actually found it difficult to breathe. Their eyes stayed locked, their fingers moving over independent instruments to form independent notes but appearing to be programmed in perfect synchronization. Kurt was only very vaguely aware of their onlookers; it was as if the world had been reduced to just Blaine and himself - as it so often seemed.

When they paused after the sonata to bow and receive their applause, Blaine swiftly stepped over to Kurt and slipped an arm around his waist, giving his body a firm and very obvious squeeze while smiling graciously around the room. _Très risqué,_ Kurt thought, just barely smothering a grin. He caught a few scandalized looks, but for the most part their audience simply clapped louder. "I hope you're ready for what's next," he whispered into Blaine's ear, and just smiled sweetly at him when Blaine gave him a startled look. He bumped Blaine's hip lightly with his own, urging him back to the piano, and to his delight, Blaine's expression was almost eager as he sat down in front of the keys.

During their rehearsals, Kurt had kept his interpretation of the tango fairly tame because he was saving the _real_ performance for the public, as one always should. So when he began to play in a quite different manner than Blaine expected, sinuous and provocative, Blaine gazed at him wide-eyed and nearly missed his cue. 

The only thing Kurt disliked about playing in traditional concert settings was that he had to stay in one spot. When he played at home or for friends - or in situations like this one - he allowed himself to _move_ \- not just with his violin but with the music itself. He didn't hold back now, gliding around the piano and making Blaine chase him with his eyes, resulting in a couple more missed notes. He wore a downright wicked smile for the entire piece, teasing Blaine to keep up with him. Blaine did his best, actually breaking into light laughter near the end and shaking his head in defeat and awe. And when the two of them slid gracefully into the final notes, Kurt leaned toward Blaine over the curved right side of the piano, as close as he dared, almost close enough to kiss him. He was still smiling, and so was Blaine, but at this proximity it was impossible to mistake the lust dancing in Blaine's eyes. 

_I hate you,_ Blaine mouthed, his lips barely moving, but Kurt merely winked at him and turned his smile on the crowd, whose applause was twice as loud as it had been the last time.

They endured the glad-handing and complimenting for as long as they could while moving steadily closer to the nearest exit. When what seemed like the very last person in the room had come to speak to them, Blaine placed his hand at the small of Kurt's back and gave him a gentle but insistent push. "Where?" Kurt asked quietly, once again finding it hard to breathe.

"Closest place with a door that locks," Blaine said out of the corner of his mouth, and Kurt grinned, grabbing his hand and pulling him across the hallway to the green room.

When they emerged 20 minutes later - cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling, hair mussed, ties crooked - and went back into the hall, anyone who hadn’t known they were an item before they left the room certainly did now, simply by coming close enough to see the proof written all over their faces.

 

Blaine had found a tiny supper club in the Pearl District that featured jazz on Thursdays, and it quickly became a weekly haunt for the two of them. The last week of January, they enjoyed the vocal talents of a lovely woman named Mercedes Jones who looked to be a few years older than them. "They should keep her," Kurt murmured after a gorgeous rendition of "One For My Baby," and Blaine nodded gravely as they clapped.

Ms. Jones and the band took a break then, and Blaine turned to face Kurt with a doleful smile. "So, what are you going to do next week?"

"Mope around missing you," Kurt replied, pouting slightly as he took both of Blane's hands into his own. Blaine was heading home to guest conduct a concert for the Des Moines Symphony, an engagement that had been in place for several months. "It's going to suck. Not looking forward to it _at all._ "

A strange expression came over Blaine's face then, and he gripped Kurt's hands a little tighter. "I was wondering..." He chuckled, looking away and shaking his head. "Don't freak out, okay, but... how would you like to come with me?"

Kurt stared at him. "C-come with?" He knew that Blaine would be staying at his parents' house and spending as much time as possible with them, and he couldn't quite grasp the full meaning of the request - or maybe he was afraid to.

"Yeah," Blaine said softly, now looking at him again, and leaned closer. "Maybe it's a little soon, but I mean... I've met your dad. And Carole, too." She had come with Burt to the last two concerts and it was obvious that they were getting along beautifully. Kurt approved with all his heart - he'd never seen his father so happy. "Cooper will be there. I've already told you that he's dying to meet you." Blaine paused, smiling a bit wistfully. "My parents are as well, Kurt."

He was often breathless around Blaine, but this time was the worst by far. It wasn't that he was freaked - on the contrary, he wanted to run around the block shrieking with joy - but the idea was just too good to be true or practical. It would serve little purpose aside from making May that much more painful. "Maybe... not," Kurt whispered, and tightened his hold on Blaine's hands when he felt Blaine starting to pull them away. "I want to, I really do," he added hastily. "It's just..." He pressed his lips together as he watched Blaine's eyes, the dismay in them sharp and clear. "Would it be to meet them, or to not have to be away from each other, or both?"

"Both," Blaine said at once. "Both, of course."

_You jerk, that's the worst answer,_ Kurt thought, and shook his head. "You've only met my dad because he comes to concerts anyway," he said carefully. "If not for that, the thought of you meeting him because we're together is kind of..." He wanted to say "crazy," but that would offend Blaine. He shook his head again, trying to clear it. "We both know what this is. What we have. And we know how long it's going to last."

"Not necessarily," Blaine said stubbornly, and Kurt sighed.

"I'm so, _so_ flattered that you asked. And I do want to, I'm not lying. But I can't. Please don't be upset."

Blaine swallowed hard and glanced away, but he didn't look angry, just a bit sad. Then he laughed ruefully and lifted Kurt's hands to kiss the back of one of them. "It just popped into my head. I shouldn't have sprung it on you like that." Kurt studied him closely, unable to tell if he was being honest or just covering up how disappointed he really was.

"Blaine, I'm sorry."

"Don't be! I mean it." He kissed Kurt's knuckles again, keeping his lips pressed there for a few seconds. "I understand, I do." And Kurt believed him. 

Not for the first time, and certainly not the last, he was struck by how foolish he'd been to waste all those weeks in the fall. Things would still be over at the same time, but maybe meeting Blaine's family now wouldn't be such a rash idea if they'd been dating for several months already. He pulled one of his hands out of Blaine's grip to cup his cheek; Blaine turned his head to kiss the center of Kurt's palm and then leaned his cheek into it again, gazing at Kurt and looking as if he wanted to say something. Blaine so often looked at him like that, and one day Kurt was going to make him spit out whatever it was.

Not now, though. The restaurant patrons were applauding politely, and Kurt saw that Ms. Jones had returned to the small stage. "Thanks, everybody," she said smoothly, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. "I was all set to sing a particular song when I got back, but I'm changing it up because I saw a couple of nice-looking boys over there who look like they could use a serenade." She gestured toward the corner where Kurt and Blaine were sitting, and Kurt felt his face grow hot as several people turned to glance at them. He locked eyes with Blaine, who looked amused, and Kurt tried to smile for his sake.

After conferring quietly with the band, Mercedes swung into a sultry version of "The Man I Love," which hit just a bit too close to home for Kurt. But when Blaine beamed at him, stood up, and held out his hand for Kurt to take, Kurt complied at once. He clung to Blaine's body as they slow-danced beside their table, his face tucked into the side of Blaine's neck, and fell just a little bit harder for him.

 

They went to Pazzo for Valentine's Day - Kurt had made the reservation two days after they became an official couple - and shared staggeringly delicious shrimp risotto and garganelli with mussels and bottarga. Over their bowl of orange sorbet, Kurt murmured, his tongue a little thick from wine, that it would take much too long to get to his house. "Wanna fuck you in that giant hotel bed," he intoned, sliding down in his seat so he could press his knee between Blaine's legs. "'S right over there," he added, his words just slurred enough to be noticed.

"It's five blocks, but I get you," Blaine replied softly, his breath hitching as Kurt rubbed harder. Kurt noticed that he was gripping the edge of their tiny table quite tightly and his eyes widened. He bit his lip to hold back a giggle, and sat all the way back again, smiling lazily at the look of bemused frustration on Blaine's face. "I've never wanted to just stand up and yell 'Check, please!' as much as I do right now," Blaine said, and exhaled slowly.

"Ten more minutes," Kurt whispered.

It was more like twenty before they finally got to Blaine's hotel room, but well worth the wait. Kurt did indeed fuck him in the wonderfully huge bed, long and slow and agonizingly perfect. He pressed their clasped hands into the pillow above Blaine's head as he rocked in and out of him, with Blaine's ankles crossed at the small of Kurt's back and Blaine's other hand clutching at Kurt's shoulder. The alcohol didn't hinder either of them, only serving to make them both last a little longer than they might have, and they used the time very wisely. When Blaine's moans against Kurt's mouth dipped to a lower pitch and became more urgent, Kurt knew he was close and twisted his hips just right, sliding across Blaine's prostate three or four times, his lips capturing the groan Blaine let out as he came. 

After, Blaine got out of bed long enough to get them ice water and to turn the lights a little lower. Kurt held the cold glass to his cheek gratefully, no longer tipsy but sated and too warm, then took a small sip and handed it back to Blaine. "You're so pretty," he murmured, tracing Blaine's lower lip. "Too pretty. Too pretty for me."

Blaine scoffed quietly and kissed Kurt's fingertip. "That's my line." He set the glass on the nightstand and gathered Kurt into his arms, sighing deeply into his hair. They lay silent for a few minutes, breathing slowly and nearly in sync, and then Blaine asked, "Are you happy?"

Kurt turned his face up to look at him, his eyes wide. "Of course I am."

"I don't mean right _now,_ of course you're happy now, we just had amazing sex." Blaine smiled, tapping the end of Kurt's nose. "No, I mean in general."

"Don't be stupid," Kurt mumbled. "I've never been happier in my life. I love being with you."

"Good," Blaine replied, his voice tender. "That's all I want for you." He kissed Kurt's mouth, gently and with something like reverence, then leaned their foreheads together. "Even if it's just for a little while."

Kurt suppressed a whine. How dare Blaine bring that up at a time like this, today of all days. But Blaine knew him well, better than Kurt realized, because he immediately surged ahead. "I know, I know. I've just been thinking about it. I _hate_ thinking about it, but we sort of need to."

"No we don't," Kurt said sulkily, and burrowed closer to Blaine's body, pressing his face into the curve where Blaine's shoulder met his neck. 

"No, listen." Blaine gave him a gentle nudge, and Kurt reluctantly looked up at him, not wanting to meet his eyes for fear that he'd just start crying or something. "Why does it only have to be a little while? We could do the long-distance thing, I know we could. At least, I know _I_ could." He bit his lip, searching Kurt's face for guidance. "I feel... what I feel for you is just so much, Kurt. It's so big. Bigger than it should be. And it's not just going to go away after I leave town."

Kurt let out a long, slow breath and for the first time allowed himself to really ponder the possibility. Long-distance... he could handle that, maybe. Skype was a beautiful invention, and they were both well-off enough to travel just about as much and as often as they wanted. It could work. Not forever, but for a while.

And then Kurt remembered what Sue had told him last summer. _"I said 'replacement'. I'd prefer that Will didn't come back. Whoever it is will be doing a season-long audition, but they won't know it."_ He'd been so caught up in the fabulous whirlwind of having a sweet, gorgeous, nearly insatiable boyfriend that it had all but slipped his mind. He held his breath, his eyes flickering back and forth between Blaine's face and a spot on the wall across the room, wondering if he dared tell him. 

"Okay," he said slowly. Blaine could obviously tell something important was coming and focused on him intently. "Don't hold me to this, because I don't know if it's still her plan, but..." He then repeated everything Sue had said to him, a bit too nervous to look into Blaine's eyes as he spoke. "If that's... I mean, would you consider taking the job if she offered it?"

"Are you kidding?" Blaine said at once, and broke into a ridiculously sunny grin. "In a _second._ " He laughed and kissed Kurt impulsively, cupping his face between his palms. "In less than a second. Oh my God."

Kurt beamed, relieved. "Not just for me, though," he said quickly, wanting to make sure they were both on the same page.

"No," Blaine shook his head. "I won't lie, you would be a big part of it. But I like it here, and I like the orchestra, and come on, it'd be _a job._ A _steady_ job. Being able to stay with you would just be an awesome bonus." He paused for breath, still grinning dizzily at Kurt, and bounced a little against the mattress. "When can we find out if this is still on the agenda, can you ask her tomorrow?"

Laughing, Kurt pressed a hand against Blaine's chest. "Hold on there. We have to be suave about it. Honestly, if she hasn't said anything to you about staying yet then that worries me some. And I don't want her to think I'm only asking because we're together and I want to keep my boyfriend no matter what." Blaine's face fell, and Kurt kissed him reassuringly. "I know her, and I know how to get information out of her. It just might take a little time."

"Okay," Blaine said, sounding mollified, and settled back down against his pillow. "Let me ask you something else, though." He hesitated, seeming to gather his thoughts, and Kurt waited patiently as Blaine ran a fingertip up and down his arm. "Let's turn that around," he said slowly. "What if I got a permanent position somewhere else? Somewhere... well, far?" 

Kurt frowned. "Isn't that what we were talking about before? Doing the long-distance thing?"

"Well..." Blaine sighed, closing his eyes. "I hope this isn't going to be like when I asked you to come to Iowa a couple weeks ago." Kurt's belly did a somersault and he braced himself. "Would you, you know. Move? With me?"

"I... wow," Kurt whispered. No, he had not seen this coming. And he had to forcibly bite his tongue to keep from saying 'yes' immediately. 

Blaine watched him closely, still gliding his finger slowly up and down Kurt's arm, although Kurt could feel it trembling a little as it moved over his skin. "You don't have to answer right now," Blaine said. "I'd be suspicious if you did, frankly."

"No, I know." Kurt closed his eyes. He couldn't believe this. Blaine was completely serious, he was sure of it. "But you want me to think about it?"

"Maybe."

"I--" But he stopped, shaking his head and trying to think. "Why do you keep asking me things that are crazy and wonderful and make me feel terrible for being logical?"

"Because I'm just that damn difficult," Blaine murmured, and pressed a kiss to the corner of Kurt's mouth. Kurt kept his eyes shut but kissed him back, kind of wanting to sit up and get the ice water again but not wanting to move even that small distance away from Blaine. 

"It's not outside the realm of possibility," he said, choosing his words carefully. "But Blaine..." He sighed, opened his eyes a sliver, and closed them again when he saw that all-too-familiar expression of disappointment on Blaine's face. "Listen to me. It's not a fair trade. You travel all the time anyway and if you were to stay here it would be a giant step up. But my whole life is here. My whole world. My friends, my father... and let's not forget that I have this job, well, for life, basically." He opened his eyes all the way this time, needing to look at Blaine for this part. "For the next 35 years, okay? That's job security. I'm not even 30 years old and I'm set until I retire. Doing something I truly _love._ Do you know how lucky I am to have that?"

"I do. I really do." Blaine nodded fiercely, and took one of Kurt's hands, holding it tight. "I know it's incredibly unfair for me to ask, but I had to."

"It's not unfair. It's romantic as hell, baby," Kurt said softly. "Crazy and wonderful and illogical and romantic as _hell._ And that I'm actually going to think about it in spite of everything I just said, and after we've only been together for two months? That should tell you something."

"It does, God." Blaine actually whimpered, pulling Kurt close and burying his face into the side of his neck. His next words were muffled, but Kurt understood them all the same. "Thank you for at least agreeing to think about it."

"Well, I can't just up and say no, you dork. I like you too much."

_I like you way, way too much._

 

A few weeks earlier, Blaine had received an email from Mike Chang, a friend from Boston who had been an undergrad at the Conservatory when Blaine was in graduate school. Mike was a ballet _danseur_ and, according to Blaine, was quickly becoming one of the most sought-after in the country. He knew that Blaine was in Portland and told him that he and his wife, Tina, would be there at the end of February to dance the lead roles in _Giselle_ with the Oregon Ballet Theatre, and they would love to see him if he had time.

Kurt adored _Giselle_ and jumped at the chance to see it again, so Blaine relayed this to Mike, who said he would hold tickets for them and for any friends who might want to come along. Rachel was ecstatic and squealed so loudly in Kurt's ear that he had to hold the phone away from his head. "And Finn?" he asked, biting back a laugh that he knew would have been unkind. The idea of big, bumbling Finn enjoying a ballet performance was just too funny, though. She said she would haul Finn along whether he liked it or not.

Since they all had busy schedules, only a couple of double dates had been possible prior to this, so they made the most of it. A lavish dinner at Carafe before the show and, at Rachel's insistence, a trip to Ben & Jerry's down by PSU afterward. "Maybe we can get Mike and Tina to join us!" she said happily. "You know dancers have to eat fattening stuff all the time or they'll just be skin and bones." Kurt wasn't entirely sure about her logic, and Finn apparently wasn't either, judging by the incredulous look he shared with Kurt. They both kept silent, though, and just let Blaine pat her arm and say he hoped they could come along, too.

The ballet was flawless, thanks in no small part to Mike and Tina's performances. They were simply breathtaking together. At intermission, Kurt asked Blaine how long they had been married. "I'm not sure, but they got together just after I graduated, so not that long." The passion between them was far from faded, in other words, and it showed onstage.

After the show the four of them were able to go backstage, and Kurt couldn't help being a tiny bit jealous when Mike practically tackle-hugged Blaine. For a fleeting instant he wondered just how close they had been in school... and then he remembered Mike's beautiful and graceful ballerina wife, who was watching the two of them with deep affection. "I would tell you that Mike hasn't shut up about you for a week and that I'm sick of hearing about you, but you're too cute for me to say it to your face," Tina said, laughing, and pulled Blaine into a hug of her own. 

Introductions went all around (poor Finn looked even more out of place than usual among such willowy, delicate creatures, but he was smiling, so Kurt figured he was okay) and Rachel immediately began to talk Tina's ear off about her technique. Mike and Blaine just kept grinning and giving each other bro-tastic shoulder punches. "Twenty bucks says Rach really will talk them into coming for ice cream," Finn whispered to Kurt, who had to cover his mouth to keep from snorting with laughter.

Nobody seemed in a great hurry to leave, though. The six of them lounged around Tina's large dressing room, several conversations going at once. Blaine had pulled Kurt into his lap early on, and Kurt leaned happily against his shoulder, twisting one of Blaine's curls around his finger as he listened to him and Mike chatter on and on about mutual school friends. It was rather lovely, Kurt thought, sitting here like this. Being a part of Blaine's life that didn't revolve around the symphony. He'd never seen Blaine in quite this mood, jovial and sarcastic and such a _boy,_ it was adorable. 

"Kurt," Tina said in his ear, making him jump. She apologized, giggling, and steadied him, then led him to her dressing table and sat on its counter so their eyes were level. "Blaine poured his heart out in one of his emails to Mike," she said quietly. "He told me about it. The two of you... your situation..." She bit her lip, looking at him sympathetically. 

Kurt smiled sadly and shrugged. "We're making the best of it." Having only met her half an hour ago, he didn't want to go into great detail. 

"I know, and I need to tell you something." A lock of hair had come loose from her tight ballerina's bun, and she pushed it aside impatiently. "Do whatever you have to do to keep him," she said urgently. "Trust me. Mike and I went through something similar. Long story" - she sighed, waving an impatient hand - "but yeah. Whatever you have to do. It'll be worth it." She glanced over at her husband and Blaine, then leaned close to Kurt and dropped her voice to just above a whisper. "Mike said he thinks Blaine's in love with you."

Kurt stared at her, his lips parted in surprise. He didn't know this woman from Adam, but for some reason he felt sure she had been somehow _sent_ to tell him this. Not sent by Mike, not like that. Just by... someone, or _something._ Like the stranger who holds you back when you're involved in your own thoughts and are about to step off a street corner into oncoming traffic. 

_"Do you believe in fate?"_ He'd asked Blaine that, and Blaine's answer had been instantaneous and firm. 

_"Yes. Of course."_

And Kurt had said, when Blaine asked him, that now he believed in it, too. 

 

"I miss you so much," Blaine whined. "Just so. Fucking. Much. It's _pathetic._ " The pout was evident in his voice and it made Kurt want to giggle in spite of himself.

Instead, he said soothingly, "I know, I miss you like crazy too. Three more days till you're back."

"Till I'm _home,_ " Blaine sighed.

It took Kurt a moment to realize what he'd said, and when he caught up he said softly, with real amazement, "You said home. Here, you called _here_ home."

"I know. It's how I think of Portland now. Because you're there."

Kurt blinked back tears, staring up at his bedroom ceiling in wonder. "God," he murmured, and laughed so loudly and abruptly that Quinn woke up and glared at him. He petted the cat absentmindedly and she curled up close to his side again, purring deeply. "I just can't believe you said that."

Blaine was in Los Angeles, guesting for the LA Philharmonic, and he'd almost made himself sick with excitement and nerves the week before he'd gone. It had gotten much worse two days prior to him leaving; he had wandered around looking as if he did not know where to go or what to do, and Kurt had forced him to sit in front of the piano in his living room with the sheet music for the concert he was to conduct. Kurt understood why he was so anxious. It was the _Los Angeles Philharmonic,_ first of all, an incredible honor, and their musical director was Gustavo Dudamel and Blaine would be getting a lot of face time with him. Dudamel was to Blaine as Itzhak Perlman was to Kurt, or maybe Joshua Bell was a better comparison. Vibrant, disgustingly talented, and someone who had achieved an immense level of success at a young age - he was only four years older than Blaine himself. He was Blaine's _idol,_ and almost all of their phone conversations that week had consisted of Blaine babbling on and on about everything he was learning from him. 

But tonight's call was different. They had been talking for nearly 20 minutes and Dudamel hadn't been brought up once, only mush and sap and now this, Blaine calling Kurt's city home, and Kurt could hardly bear it. 

"Can you get on Skype?" Blaine asked, sniffling quietly. "I want to see you."

"My laptop's in the kitchen... and you don't want to see my face right now, my eyes are all red because of what you said."

"I don't care, please?"

Kurt faked a sigh of annoyance. "Quinn is very unhappy with you for making me get up," he grumbled, nudging her gently aside so he could stand from the bed. Once his feet hit the floor, though, he practically ran down the hall. "Did I shut it down-- no, it's only asleep. I'm hanging up now, be on in a second."

He dropped the phone onto the kitchen table and tapped his fingers impatiently - stupid laptop always took forever to wake up when he really needed it. But in just a minute, there was Blaine's beautiful smiling face staring at him from the monitor. Kurt couldn't hold back a soft squeal - he looked absolutely precious, all bundled up in his Berklee hoodie, with his hair standing in crazy corkscrews, and wearing his glasses. "You should have warned me," he whimpered, touching the screen lightly. "You know I go crazy when you wear those stupid hipster glasses."

Blaine laughed softly and leaned closer to his own monitor. "I wanted to surprise you," he murmured, and then actually leaned in and kissed his screen. 

"You know you have to kiss the camera if you want that to work," Kurt said, feeling giddy at just the sight of his silly, dorky man. His man. Yeah. 

"Don't care," Blaine replied, now propping his chin into his palm and gazing at Kurt. "It got the point across, didn't it? I was kissing you. That was a big, wet-- ew, really wet, hang on." He pulled the cuff of his hoodie over the heel of his hand and wiped at the screen, making Kurt snort with laughter. "There. I should have taken a picture before I cleaned it off. Just to prove it to you."

"I _know_ you kissed it!" Kurt burst out laughing again, the sound fading into a low sigh as he shook his head. "We have the dumbest conversations."

"Those are the best kind." Blaine rubbed at one of his eyes under his glasses, making them go crooked on his face for a moment. "But I just want to look at you. No talking for a little bit."

Kurt closed his mouth at once and imitated Blaine by resting his chin into his cupped palms, gazing at the screen in silence. After a few minutes, Blaine sighed, "You're so beautiful, fuck," and touched his monitor, and Kurt knew he was tracing the outline of the face he saw there, so he stayed perfectly still. "I miss you. I want you." 

"The bed's so empty," Kurt said softly. "I hate it." Sudden - though not entirely unexpected - tears sprang to his eyes again, and he sat back in his chair to wipe them away. "I hate _you_ sometimes."

"I know. I hate me sometimes too." Blaine sounded so forlorn that Kurt stared at him, rocked by a feeling of loss that was kind of terrifying. Was this what their long-distance relationship was going to be like? He hadn't been able to get a straight answer from Sue about what her plans were for keeping Blaine around, and the idea of following Blaine to wherever he went was too huge to really deal with without a solid plan, so long-distance would be what they were stuck with, most likely. If it felt like this after less than a week apart, Kurt didn't know if he could handle a longer period. 

What he was thinking must have registered on his face, because Blaine leaned in close and began mumbling for Kurt not to cry, to not be sad, " _please_ don't, sweetheart". Kurt just couldn't stop the stupid tears from forming, and Blaine apparently couldn't either, so the two of them just sat there and cried for a while, touching their screens and being utterly ridiculous, but because they were doing it together, it was okay. Acceptable. Allowed.

Sure.

 

The next three days dragged, driving Kurt totally stir-crazy, and he ended up parking himself at Rachel's on Sunday just to have something to do. They ate popcorn and ice cream and watched four movies, one right after the other - all comedies, since Kurt was apt to burst into tears at even the smallest hint of romance. He took a sleeping pill when he got home and was curled up in bed before ten o'clock, smiling as he fell asleep because Blaine would be there next to him tomorrow night.

The LAP had a Sunday evening concert and a reception afterward, so Blaine was flying in on Monday afternoon and would arrive just in time for Portland's rehearsal that evening. Kurt was grateful he had two students that day to distract him, and after the second one left, he straightened up around the house - being alone and sulky all week had not made for good housekeeping. Then he took a shower, and oh would you look at that, it was time to head downtown to pick up Blaine's sheet music for tonight from the office before he went to the airport to get Blaine himself. That hadn't been so bad after all.

What with his preoccupation the week before, he'd forgotten that Artie was on vacation, so he was surprised to see Brittany in the front office. Brittany S. Pierce, to be exact - the busker he and Blaine had seen the day they'd gone to Pike Place. She had noticed Kurt's business card in her case and contacted him not long after, and he put her in touch with Sue. She wasn't put off at all by the fact that there weren't currently any open spots for her and agreed to come down to audition anyway, so she could be "on file". The audition, which Kurt had attended, had been fantastic, and Sue had taken a great personal liking to her. Kurt wasn't sure exactly how it had happened, but after Christmas Brittany was a Portland resident and was working in the symphony's office - Sue had told her that the instant one of their violinists left, she was in, no problem.

"Hey, Kurt!" she said brightly when he walked in, doing a full spin in her chair instead of just pushing back from her computer. "Are you here for the music?"

Kurt smiled - he couldn't help it. He knew what she'd meant, but the unintentional double meaning in her question was quite clever. That was Brittany all over, so far as he could tell. "Yes, thanks," he replied, and she smiled back at him and held up a finger to show she'd be right back.

Kurt checked his watch; he still had more than an hour before Blaine's plane was due and it would only take half an hour to get there. He had time to stay and talk to Brittany a little, if she was up for it, to see how she was adjusting. She wouldn't be here if not for him, after all. She was such a sweet girl, if a little naive and a tendency to seem younger than her 20 years. Kurt liked her quite a lot, though, and was very glad she was there. 

She returned shortly with a slim three-ring binder and handed it to him with another smile. Kurt flicked through it to make sure everything was there: Satie, Ravel, and Debussy. Perfect.

"So, are you leaving us to go play with the kangaroos, too?" Brittany asked, apropos of nothing.

Kurt glanced up from the binder with a polite frown and shook his head slightly. "I'm sorry?"

She looked at him blankly. "That's where they're from, aren't they? The kangaroos? Australia?"

"Yes, but who's going to Australia?"

Brittany's expression instantly flipped from mild confusion to abject horror, and she covered her mouth with both hands. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit."

"Brittany, what--"

"I thought you knew! I assumed he would have told you by now, oh God, I'm gonna be in so much trouble..."

Badly startled now, Kurt reached out to touch her arm and tried to stay calm, tried to ignore the way his heart rate had suddenly tripled. "Slow down. Tell me."

"I can't," she said softly. "I'm not supposed to know anyway, I just overheard Ms. Sylvester on the phone the other day."

"Brittany." The word rang through the small office, sharp and impatient, an unmistakable warning. He didn't want to glare at her - she was just a kid - but he had such a horrible, sickening feeling that he couldn't help it. "Who's going to Australia?" he asked quietly, his voice trembling.

Her big blue eyes filled with tears and she covered her mouth again, shaking her head. But before Kurt could ask again, she took a deep breath and dropped her hands. "Blaine. Blaine's going. He got an apprenticeship in Sydney."

The binder slipped from his fingers as he stumbled backward and he was just able to hang onto it. He blinked rapidly at Brittany, his mouth working soundlessly as he shook his head. There was no way she was right, none at all. 

"I'm so sorry, Kurt," she whispered. 

_Blaine. Sydney. Blaine. Sydney. Sydney. Blaine was going to fucking **Sydney**._

Only one other thing penetrated Kurt's mind: _Sue._ She knew. He shoved his shaking hand into his coat pocket and pulled out his phone, barely able to focus on the screen as he found Sue's number in the contacts. He turned away from Brittany as he brought the phone to his ear, squeezing his eyes shut to try and block out everything.

"Mr. Hummel!" God, she sounded so _cheerful._ "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"What is this about Sydney?" His voice was surprisingly flat; he had expected it to be quivering as much as his hands.

"What's that?"

Kurt clenched his eyes even more tightly closed. "Sydney. Blaine going to Sydney. Brittany just told me."

Behind him, he could hear Brittany groan, and he quickly stuck the binder under his arm so he could fling his free hand back and point a finger at her. _Be quiet._

Sue was silent for several seconds, and then she murmured, "Damn that girl."

"Leave her out of it, just tell me what's going on."

Sue sighed deeply, all her former jauntiness gone now. "I didn't want you to have to hear this from me, Kurt."

"Well, I'm hearing it. So talk." This was no way to talk to his boss, but at the moment he could not have cared less. "I'm picking him up at the airport in an hour and I need to hear this right now."

She sighed again, then stayed quiet. Kurt was on the verge of screaming when she began to speak at last, her voice heavy. "He applied for a conductor's apprenticeship last summer with the SSO, not long before I got in touch with him to come back to Portland. They had hundreds of applicants and told everybody it would be months before they came to a final decision. Blaine was the one chosen. He found out only a couple of days before he left for Los Angeles. That's probably why he hasn't told you yet, he's had too much going on down there. When he let _me_ know he was so dazed and confused that I don't think he even knew who he was talking to."

Kurt couldn't take it in. His eyes were open now but they saw nothing; there was only a blank white wall filling his vision. "I can't--" His voice broke, and he hitched in a shuddering breath. "How long is the apprenticeship?"

"For their entire season, as I understand it."

Kurt closed his eyes again. " _Sydney._ "

"Also known as the home of the most prestigious symphony in the world, yes."

"Yeah, and it's on _the other side of the world!_ "

Sue hesitated, and her voice was just as calm when she spoke again in spite of his outburst. "I'm aware of that. I'm sorry, I don't know what to tell you other than you should be incredibly proud of him. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity."

Kurt barked out a short, bitter laugh, tossing the binder onto an empty chair before throwing both arms up in utter helplessness. He was still laughing when he brought the phone back to his ear. "Right, right, he gets to go to Sydney and I get to be stuck here in motherfucking _Oregon._ "

He heard Brittany gasp behind him and whirled to glare at her. She was crying openly now, and immediately turned to run into the back. Kurt continued to stare at the spot where she'd been as he said softly, "You can't hold me accountable for anything I say right now, Sue. I'm sorry."

"I know that. You said you're picking him up in an hour?"

"Yes."

"You'd better let me do it instead. I don't want you driving right now."

For some insane reason, this shook some sense back into him and his head cleared a little. "No. No, I'm okay."

"You're so not."

"I _will_ be. When I see him I will be." Afraid she was going to be successful in talking him out of it, Kurt hit the end call button on the phone's screen. He looked around numbly and spotted the binder he'd been holding, and shuffled over to pick it up. Then he remembered Brittany. He really ought to go find her and apologize... 

Kurt laughed again, the sound brittle and half a sob, and shook his head as he staggered toward the door. It had begun to rain again while he'd been inside. Tucking the binder under his coat, he quickly crossed the sidewalk and edged around his car, leaning almost all of his weight on it, and fumbled out his keys. His lower lip was trembling as he slid into the driver's seat.

He had every intention of driving a few blocks and finding a parking lot to pull into, to just chill for a while and calm himself down. But as soon as the car door closed behind him the tears burst forth like a torrent, and he could only sit there, sobbing like a child lost all alone in the woods.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Symphony AU. Kurt is the 27-year-old first violinist and concertmaster of the Oregon Symphony Orchestra in Portland. Blaine arrives in town to guest conduct their concert of Holst's The Planets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Livejournal January-March 2012. Masterpost: http://colfer.livejournal.com/47608.html

**Chapter 8 - "A due"**

 

Later, Kurt would never really know how he was able to make it to the airport. One minute he was hunched over the steering wheel, bawling his eyes out and feeling like the most immature asshole on earth, and the next he was pressing the button on the ticket gate for hourly parking at PDX. He pulled into a space and carefully turned off the engine, noticing that his breathing was now steady, though much deeper and more deliberate than usual, as if his body didn't trust itself to simply go through the motions. Most of the sorrow and helplessness he'd felt at the office was gone now, or at least buried, because he only felt numb. 

He glanced at his face in the rearview mirror and let out a soft whine at the sight of his red, puffy eyes. But then he realized that he would almost certainly start to cry again when he saw Blaine. Furthermore, when Blaine started to tell him about Sydney, Kurt would want to spare him the misery and assure him that he already knew. So, worrying about how terrible he looked right now didn't matter. 

He bought coffee inside and sipped it slowly as he waited by the security checkpoint for Concourse C, not because he particularly wanted it, but just to have some small thing to occupy him. His timing worked out well because he'd only been there for a couple of minutes when his phone chirped with a text from Blaine: _Just landed! See you soon!!_ That was all he needed for his eyes to well up with more tears, and he blinked them back furiously as he responded with a simple _I'm here :)_ because trying to say anything more would have been impossible.

Fifteen endless minutes later, Blaine appeared around the bend. They saw each other immediately and both broke into automatic grins, but Kurt was glad many feet still separated them so Blaine couldn't see that his lower lip began to tremble at once. He dropped his mostly undrunk coffee into the nearest trash can and moved swiftly toward Blaine, holding his arms out for Blaine to fold himself into. Blaine was already slipping the straps of his backpack from his shoulders and let it fall to the floor behind him when he reached Kurt, dropping the bag in his hand, too, and let out a shaky sigh as he hugged Kurt with a fierce tightness that was a little frightening. Without thinking, Kurt hooked a foot into one of the backpack's straps and pulled it closer to them so no one would snatch it or trip over it, and when he realized that he'd done it he couldn't believe such a prosaic idea had come to him in that moment.

"Missed you," Blaine whispered into his ear, and tucked his face back into the side of Kurt's neck, clinging to him even more tightly. Kurt pressed his lips together to hold back the sob that was already threatening to escape him and merely nodded. He hummed quietly as he pressed a kiss into Blaine's hair, completely oblivious to the hundreds of people streaming past them. Because Blaine traveled for work so much, he knew how to pack, and these two carry-ons were all the luggage he had. No need to run to baggage claim. Thank goodness.

After a long moment, Blaine leaned back to look at him, his eyes shining with tears. "Kurt--" he started, and cut himself off to swallow hard. "I just... I can't fucking stand being away from you. It's the worst feeling in the world."

Kurt just hummed again, biting at a corner of his lip. He was afraid to speak. He knew that if he allowed his mouth to open even the tiniest bit, all that would come out would be a giant braying sob that would embarrass them both. 

Then Blaine began to say something else, but shook his head and just buried his face in Kurt's neck again, renewing his almost panicky hold on Kurt's body. Kurt closed his eyes, tears sliding down his cheeks into Blaine's hair, and when he felt _Blaine's_ tears on his skin, he tightened his arms around Blaine yet again. They simply stood there, clutching at each other without speaking. So many things needed to _be_ said, but Kurt couldn't bring himself to do it and he wasn't going to push Blaine. He didn't know if Blaine could tell that he already knew or if Blaine thought he was just overwhelmed to see him. Both of them needed comfort; the reasons why didn't matter.

But when Blaine finally spoke up again, it was only to ask if Kurt had eaten. "What?" Kurt croaked, frowning, sure he had misheard.

"Are you hungry?" Blaine asked patiently.

"I-- no. Why, are you?"

Blaine shook his head. "Just checking." 

Was he stalling? Kurt could understand if he was, but they'd been standing there for nearly ten minutes and he just wanted to get this over with. Part of him wanted to quit waiting for Blaine to spill it, to just tell him that he knew so they could have it out in the open _somehow._ That felt wrong, though. Blaine should have told him before today anyway. He should be the one to do it.

Instead, Blaine just leaned into Kurt once again, this time with a little hitching sigh, and gave every appearance of being content to stand there holding him until they absolutely had to leave. Trying not to feel frustrated, Kurt rubbed Blaine's back gently and leaned his head against the side of Blaine's, biting his tongue to keep from blurting out something like, "Do you have anything to tell me?" 

Maybe Blaine would actually talk once they were in the car. This wasn't the kind of messy, emotional scene to have in the middle of a busy airport. 

As the minutes continued to stretch out, Kurt realized that they hadn't even kissed yet. Doing it now would undoubtedly bring more tears, but it might also give Blaine that last little emotional nudge he needed. So he pressed his lips to Blaine's temple, keeping them there when Blaine let out a soft, contented whimper, and he was ready when Blaine tilted his face back to kiss him properly. It was slightly off-center since they both had their eyes shut, but Kurt couldn't have cared less. His heart swelled, as it always did when he kissed Blaine, but this time it also felt horribly _squeezed._ Worse still, it was as if there was a large chunk missing and the organ was trying to fold in on itself to fill the empty space. But he didn't pull away from the kiss, didn't even think about it, not even when he felt fresh tears from both himself and Blaine falling on his cheeks. 

At last, they broke apart, smiling tentatively at each other. Blaine sniffled loudly and glanced away, then sighed. "We need to get going. Rehearsal." He shifted his eyes back to Kurt's, his expression miserable. "I don't want to. I just want to go home and cuddle with you."

In spite of himself, in spite of the pain and confusion and growing irritation that Blaine wasn't saying what he should have been saying, Kurt smiled. "You were the one who _scheduled_ it, so don't complain."

Blaine narrowed his eyes at him, but a small smile crept to the corners of his mouth as well. "Smartass."

"Mhm," Kurt murmured, and finally unwound his arms from Blaine's body, waiting until Blaine had picked up his bags to take his hand.

 

By the time they arrived at rehearsal, all of the anguish Kurt had felt had been replaced by a combination of equal parts anger and fear. Blaine had not said a single word about Sydney during the drive, just more details about his time in LA and a long litany of Dudamel's attributes. Not one word about the much more pressing matters they should have been discussing. Although Kurt kept up a steady flow of appropriate responses, he found it increasingly difficult, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. At first he tried to tell himself that Blaine was being cautious and wasn't telling him because he was driving - which would have been much worse than standing in the airport, Kurt realized. But as they inched along in rush hour traffic, other possible reasons began to creep in, and those were infinitely more worrying. 

They had said all along that this was only temporary, that there was a clock ticking, and when the symphony season ended things between them were going to change drastically. Blaine had been the one to insist that they didn't have to break it off entirely, and Kurt had gone along with it only because he couldn't bear to think of the alternative. Perhaps Blaine had changed his mind. Sydney was over 7,500 miles and a 16-hour time difference from Portland. Even though it had always been Blaine pushing for this relationship while Kurt tried to hang back and be practical, it wasn't so insane to think that Blaine might now be viewing it in starkly realistic terms. 

Separate from that, Kurt was very hurt that Blaine _just wasn't telling him._ It was bad enough that he hadn't told him while he'd been in Los Angeles and that Kurt had to hear it from _Brittany,_ of all people. Just how long was he going to stay silent about it? Sure, they had been in public earlier, but Blaine certainly could have pulled him to a quiet spot or into a restaurant and told him once they were sitting down and calm. But he hadn't. He hadn't said anything.

And as they entered downtown, Kurt was hit with a truly terrifying thought: _What if I've been wrong all this time? What if our relationship doesn't mean nearly as much to him as it does to me?_

Irrational? Maybe. But God, what was he supposed to think?

Blaine either didn't notice how upset Kurt was or didn't know what to do about it. When the car was parked, he heaved a deep, resigned sigh and leaned over to kiss Kurt's cheek before climbing out. Kurt was shaking as he waited for Blaine to remove Kurt's violin case and the smaller of his own two bags from the trunk, and said absolutely nothing as they walked into the building, although he clutched Blaine's hand very tightly. 

Most of the orchestra had already arrived, and they loudly and happily called out greetings at the sight of Blaine. He smiled graciously and waved to everyone, and Kurt slipped away as several people wandered toward Blaine to ask about his trip. He sat down in his chair and immediately opened his case, trying to control his trembling fingers as he extracted his sheet music and checked his violin's strings. 

_I can do this,_ he told himself. _I can do this. He just wants to get us through rehearsal, and he'll tell me when we're at home later. That has to be it._ Kurt clung to this thought, running it over and over in his mind, concentrating on it as if it were the hardest piece of music he'd ever had to play in his life. And by the time Blaine had finally corralled everyone back to their seats and was ready to begin, Kurt actually thought he might be okay.

It was the damn baton that finally broke him. That stupid lilac baton Blaine used for rehearsals. When he tapped it against the edge of the podium, Kurt recalled the first time he'd seen it with perfect, stinging clarity. It had been the night they'd met, thirteen months and six days ago. The night Blaine had walked into this very room, into Kurt's life, and had smiled at him with such warmth that Kurt had to remind himself to breathe. If he had only known then what Blaine would come to mean to him. 

His fingers felt as if they had too many joints, clumsy and loose where they should have been stiff. He couldn't hold his bow properly and couldn't bear down on the strings hard enough. He did manage to muddle through the first movement, thanking his lucky stars that he didn't have a solo, but his playing only became worse instead of better. Blaine glanced over at him a few times, first with concern and then with that frown all authority figures put on when one of their charges isn't measuring up. Kurt was their leader, so when his timing wandered so far that the entire violin section was out of joint with the rest of the strings, Blaine signaled for everyone to stop. 

"We okay over here?" he asked, appearing to speak to all of the violins even though they all knew it was really Kurt he was addressing. They all nodded and Kurt flashed Blaine a quick look of apology, and Blaine smiled. "Good. Let's go again, starting from 23, please."

This time it was only Kurt who was out of sync and Blaine didn't stop them, just shot him another look that was much more annoyed than before. He _was_ trying, but none of the signals from his brain seemed to be reaching his hands. When the violins had a small break, Kurt flexed his fingers and ignored the glances from the violinist next to him and from the cello players on the other side of Blaine's podium. He shook his head slightly, working hard to focus, and when it was time for him to play again he did a bit better but nowhere near his usual level. He was losing it. And he didn't know if Blaine was truly oblivious as to why or not, which only made it worse. 

"Violins, work with me!" Blaine called, his baton still arcing gracefully. Kurt's face was burning - his whole _body,_ it felt like - and he squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to simply _feel_ the music instead of trying to concentrate on the notes on the pages. He wanted to block out everything else. It wasn't Blaine up there. It was someone else, Sue or Dustin or anyone else. Not Blaine, who would be leaving him all alone in two months and refused to tell him so. Not Blaine, who he needed more than food or water or air. If he could just stop thinking about Blaine for ten seconds, or even five, then he could get through this.

His fingers slipped yet again, a discordant A flat coming from his violin instead of the G he was supposed to have played. It was loud enough to throw off half of the orchestra, including all of the strings, and Blaine waved wildly for them to stop again. "Kurt," he said harshly, his voice ringing through the room. "What's going on? You're screwing everybody up."

It wasn't the first time Blaine had found it necessary to call out a particular player in front of everyone, but it _was_ the first time he'd done it to Kurt. Several people breathed in sharply, others only stared, and still others glared at Kurt in real irritation. He only had eyes for Blaine, though.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, and then something clicked in his head, a light suddenly flooding a space that had been dark, and he repeated himself more loudly, his hands shaking. He stood up, and another collective gasp went through the room. "I need to go," he said abruptly. "I can't be here. I can't do this right now."

Astonished muttering broke out, and Blaine's expression moved swiftly from frustrated to bewildered. "What do you mean?"

"I _mean,_ I can't do this right now." Kurt was bending over to pick up his violin case as he spoke. "I can't rehearse. I can't play."

The buzzing around him grew ever louder. He heard a few people saying his name gently but he ignored them, fumbling with his case. "Kurt," Blaine said, softly but clearly, and Kurt closed his eyes. "We can't rehearse without you."

"Of course you can," Kurt replied, still speaking to his case instead of to Blaine. 

"No we--" Blaine broke off, and directed his next words to the orchestra at large. "Let's just take a break, everyone. Please be back in ten." 

A cacophony of anxious chatter burst through the room as people followed his direction. There was practically a mass exodus toward the doors, though a couple of orchestra members stopped near Kurt and seemed to want to speak to him, moving on when he didn't look up. Blaine remained at his podium, and Kurt could feel his eyes on him but continued to pack up his things. When most of the room was empty, he heard Blaine stand up, and closed his eyes again, willing this to be over quickly.

"Kurt." Blaine's voice was urgent and quite close. "Kurt, look at me. What's wrong? You've been acting weird since you picked me u-- _look_ at me, please." Kurt inhaled deeply and raised his eyes at last. Blaine looked stricken, nearly panicked. "What happened?" he asked. "Is it your father? Did I do something?"

"I know," Kurt said quietly, stunned by how even his voice was.

"What?"

"I. Know."

Blaine shook his head tightly, his eyes never leaving Kurt's. "You-- what?"

"I know where you're going," Kurt hissed, unable to stand it any longer. "I know about _Sydney._ "

Blaine's face drained of color and he stumbled back a step. "Kurt, I..."

"Just shut up. I can't be here, I can't talk to you."

"No, Kurt, please listen." Blaine's fingers closed around his arm and Kurt could feel them trembling. "I didn't-- look at me, I couldn't tell you before, I didn't know _how,_ I had no idea--"

Kurt wrenched his arm free. "Is this what you were talking about on Valentine's? That whole 'what if I got a job somewhere _far away'_?"

" _No!_ I had no clue I'd get this, it wasn't even on my _radar,_ I thought maybe Boston or something else on the East Coast, or, I don't know, anywhere else in the US."

"Right," Kurt said icily. " _Right._ "

The few remaining orchestra members in the room were watching them silently, but Kurt had no idea they were there. He could barely comprehend the moment. He only knew that everything, _everything_ was crumbling at his feet and he had to get out of there. 

"I don't care if you believe me or not," Blaine said softly, sounding more defeated than Kurt had ever imagined possible. "It's the truth." 

Kurt just stared at him, clutching at the strap of his violin case. Of course he believed Blaine. Of course he did. He blinked back tears, seeing for the first time that Blaine was crying, too, and sighed. "I know," he murmured, and started to raise his free hand to touch Blaine's arm but couldn't bring himself to do it. He took a deep breath and swallowed, glancing blankly around the room and not seeing anything in it. "I'm going home," he said, just as quietly. "Continue with rehearsal if you want to, but I can't stay, okay? I just can't right now." Blaine nodded. "Come over later and we'll talk."

"Rehearsal's cancelled, let me just come with you--"

"No. No. I can't... I need to be alone for a little while, at least. Take the MAX over. Green Line."

"I know which one."

"Okay."

They stared at each other for a few more seconds, and then Kurt tore his eyes away, choking back a small sob as he hoisted the strap of his violin case onto his shoulder, and stepped past Blaine without another word. Orchestra members stood in clusters of threes and fours in the hallway and the lobby, muttering as he passed them but not daring to speak to him directly. Let them whisper. Let them think whatever they wanted; it was just a lover's quarrel, most likely. That was fine with him. 

If they only _knew._

 

The knock on his front door was so tentative that Kurt wouldn't have heard it if he hadn't been sitting in the living room. He didn't know why Blaine hadn't rung the bell; perhaps he thought it would have been too harsh for the moment. 

"You must have left right after I did," he said softly to Blaine, holding the door open wide for him to come inside. "I've only been here for ten minutes."

"I shouldn't have let you drive," Blaine replied, his tone both stubborn and humble. His eyes were red, his face ashen, and his hands shook as he set his bag down in its usual spot. It took him a few seconds to notice his backpack sitting there as well, and his whole body seemed to sag. "Thanks for bringing that in," he said, nodding toward it.

Kurt murmured, "No problem," and reached for Blaine's right hand. Blaine clutched at it gratefully, shuffling along behind Kurt as he was led to the sofa. 

Having that small bit of time to himself had helped immensely with calming Kurt down, but now that Blaine was with him again and they were somewhere private, he knew the hysterics might not be far off. _Might not_ turned out to be very generous; as soon as they were settled and Kurt looked into Blaine's eyes, dread rose in him again alarmingly fast. "You can't leave me here," he burst out, shaking his head as if to ward off the tears and the painful lump in his throat. "You can't. You can't go." He _hated_ himself for saying it, but he couldn't stop. "I know how incredible this opportunity is, I know that, but you just _can't,_ Blaine." He began to sob, grabbing Blaine's other hand to cling to both of them. "I'll beg if I have to. I have no shame right now, I swear."

Blaine only looked at him, crying silently. Kurt wanted to fling his arms around him and squeeze, to crawl into his lap and cover his face with kisses, as if they would change Blaine's mind. In that moment, he would have done _anything._

"Please," he murmured, stroking the back of Blaine's left hand. He brought it up to his mouth and kissed it, then turned it over and pressed a kiss into the center of his palm. "Please, please."

"Why don't you want me to go?" Blaine asked softly.

Kurt just stared at him. "What? You know why."

"No, you need to tell me."

A fresh wave of tears threatened, but these were as much from anger as from vulnerability. Of course he knew why. "Because I'm in love with you."

Blaine closed his eyes and nodded slowly, but they flew open again when Kurt let out a cry of indignation. "Why did you make me say that? Like this isn't hard enough!"

"Because I needed to hear it! I needed it just _once._ I'm in love with you too, I have been for weeks and I should have told you long before now."

Kurt felt like hauling off and _hitting_ him, but instead he just leaned in to kiss him, their mouths meeting hard and messily and somehow absolutely perfectly. Blaine whimpered against his lips, untangling his hands from Kurt's to cradle his face between them, and Kurt wrapped a fist into the collar of Blaine's shirt to pull him as close as possible. "I love you, I love you so much," Blaine whispered frantically, kissing him again after each word. Kurt just kept nodding, letting out little moans of agreement because his vocal cords refused to form the same words just yet, but they would soon. 

This, at last, composed them both. A weight had been lifted. Kurt felt raw and exposed and open in a way that he'd never experienced, but it didn't scare him at all. Blaine was there, and Blaine would keep him safe. "Tell me everything," he said quietly, and Blaine sighed, but nodded.

Blaine's explanation matched what Sue had told Kurt that afternoon, with a few more details. He had applied for the apprenticeship in April of the previous year, sending a compilation of some of his conducting performances, complete with recommendations from music directors he'd worked with, as well as a separate "why you should pick me for this" video. Over the summer he had an interview via Skype and a couple of follow-up emails, which was the most practical method for applicants outside of Australia. The SSO had told him they'd received more than 300 applications, and it would take several months to make their decision. Then Sue had contacted him about coming back to Portland, and between adjusting to moving there for most of a year and rekindling his friendship with Kurt, he'd all but forgotten about Sydney. "I got the email two days before I left for Los Angeles," he told Kurt, both of them sniffling softly yet again. "I was so shocked, first because I barely remembered applying, and then because they chose _me._ " 

He had to pause here to gather himself, and Kurt, now having swung all the way back to depressed and then past it to nothing but supportive, rubbed Blaine's back and told him how proud he was. Blaine looked at him in disbelief for a moment, and then began to cry again. Kurt pulled him close, murmuring quiet sounds of sympathy and pressing kiss after kiss into his hair.

"I'm so sorry," Blaine mumbled. "I'm so, so sorry I didn't tell you before. I just didn't know how."

"I know. It's all right."

Blaine let out a shuddering breath and curled closer to Kurt, drawing his legs up onto the sofa beneath him. "It's so far away. Before, I thought, 'oh, seeing each other won't be a problem if I'm on the other coast or in the middle or wherever.' But this... I mean, it takes an entire day just to get there. That's not going to be something you can do in a weekend."

Kurt kissed his temple. "Believe me, I've already thought about all of that." He smiled sadly into Blaine's hair and murmured, "I guess we'll just have to wear out our Skype connections."

Blaine jerked his head back to stare up at him. "We'll have to what? You-- I thought--" He broke into a shaky, dumbfounded smile, and swallowed hard before speaking so quietly it was barely above a whisper. "You mean you want to stay together?"

"Of course I do," Kurt replied, frowning and smiling at the same time, shaking his head. "What, you thought I'd want to just break it off after the season's over?"

"Yes," Blaine blurted out. "Or now, even. I convinced myself of that on the way over here. I'd come in, tell you everything, and then you'd kiss me and say, 'Okay that's just too far away, but this was fun, bye!'" 

"Is that really how you think I feel about this?" Kurt asked sadly. "About _you?_ "

"I... no. That's-- that was more of a reflection of me than of you."

Kurt shook his head slowly. "I love you. If we ended this now... you're here for two more months, seeing you all the time without being with you would be even harder."

"Thank goodness," Blaine whispered, and kissed him again. It lingered, and Kurt's arms slid over Blaine's shoulders, pulling him in, needing him. He grew weepy all over again somewhere in the middle of it, and this time it was Blaine who did the shushing, held him close and stroked his back and murmured sweet things that Kurt only retained the feeling of, not the actual words. 

"Let's go to bed," he said softly after a while, almost a whine. "Today's been so long, and I'm so tired, and I just want to be close to you."

Blaine nodded, kissing him again when they both stood, and kept kissing him as he moved backward down the hall to the bedroom, unbuttoning Kurt's shirt on the way. They just held each other, pressed skin to skin, kissing and caressing and crying a little bit more, but Kurt refused to fall into the trap of _counting down._ This was not the beginning of the end. This was just another night together, one of many, just like any other except for the multitude of 'I love you's that passed between them. _That_ was different. That was everything.

 

Blaine finally gave up his hotel room at the Heathman for good and moved all of his things to Kurt's house. It wasn't a formal decision or something that they even really discussed. It just happened, because it felt right, and because they both knew Blaine wouldn't be spending a single night there anymore. 

Sometimes what they were now doing was overwhelming for Kurt. Not the living together, because they had been more or less doing that since just after Christmas. No, it was the days when he had no lessons and there was no symphony rehearsal, when he and Blaine spent nearly every minute in bed together. They would talk or kiss or have sex or nap or just look at each other or sometimes just cry, soaking up every possible moment. 

For Kurt, the looming date wasn't as simple as Blaine's departure from Portland. It felt as though May 29th was the day they knew one of them would die. Morbid as hell, yeah, but he couldn't help it. Most of the time, though, they did their best to forget what was coming.

Some mornings, Kurt would wake up to see that Quinn had climbed onto the bed between them, and Blaine would already be awake and petting her. Kurt would smile, and kiss the underside of Blaine's bicep and then lay his cheek against it with a soft sigh. It was one of his favorite places on Blaine's body, the muscle firm beneath impossibly smooth skin that was always cool. Blaine would continue to stroke Quinn's fur, and Kurt would look at the two of them and think, _This is my life, look how calm and normal and natural it is, I could do this forever._ And then he would remember that he _couldn't_ do it forever. This was when he would either cover his face with his hands to muffle his tears or roll on top of Blaine to fuck him like mad. One or the other. Black or white. 

They continued to go on dates and hang out with friends, as they had before, but very quickly this became a real problem for Kurt. Not only did he want to just be with Blaine somewhere safe and private and close, but he began to hate the places they went. Restaurants, street corners - landmarks of their relationship. Portland itself transformed into a constant, glaring reminder that Blaine would soon be gone. Kurt had lived here for more than ten years, it was his home, and now he hated it. 

Being with the symphony was even worse. When Blaine told them about his apprenticeship (and Kurt meekly apologized for his behavior and for leaving them all in the lurch that night), every last one of them was ecstatic for Blaine and couldn't stop asking him questions or just waxing poetic about it. That was bad enough, but then Sam got it into his head that he would only speak with a lousy Crocodile Dundee accent for the remainder of the season, and Kurt wanted to punch him every time he opened his mouth. Many people _were_ sympathetic to Kurt's position, however. He received plenty of commiserating comments and hugs, to which he simply shrugged and put on a brave smile. 

Worst of all was the fact that he would have to continue playing with the symphony without Blaine there. He didn't know how he would be able to cope with seeing someone else at the conductor's podium next season, or how he would even stand being in the rehearsal space. Hopefully he would be able to pull himself together over the summer, but he somehow already knew that the first few rehearsals in September were going to be hell. _Maybe **I** should think about a sabbatical,_ he thought glumly, disliking the very idea because he felt so weak for even considering it, but unable to dismiss it entirely. He knew it was out of the question, though. If he couldn't play, he couldn't live.

Although Kurt had moments of wanting to give Blaine a major guilt trip, he never actually did. This wasn't Blaine's fault. Had the tables been turned, he knew perfectly well that Blaine would be as encouraging as possible, so that was what Kurt did. And Blaine, for his part, tried valiantly to keep his and Kurt's spirits up. 

One evening Kurt returned home after spending most of the day with Rachel and found Blaine sitting at the piano with a pencil stuck behind his ear, the floor around him littered with discarded pages of sheet music. "I'm so glad you're here," he said breathlessly to Kurt, shuffling paper with a slightly crazed look in his eyes.

After sniffing the air theatrically, Kurt asked, "No dinner?" He pouted, and then grinned. "What kind of live-in boyfriend are you? Can't even have dinner ready when I get home." 

"Whatever, I know you and Rachel just got half-sloshed anyway. Such a difficult day." Blaine stuck his tongue out and then gestured to the sheet music he was holding. "I was slaving away right here instead of in the kitchen. Someone sent me this gorgeous piece - the guy is Icelandic, I think? It's for piano and two violins, and I re-arranged it for just one. Here."

Kurt took the offered pages, one eyebrow arched, and scanned the music while Blaine watched him eagerly. The composer was Ólafur Arnalds, the piece titled "Ljósið" - whatever that meant. He could hear the music in his head - haunting, aching but lovely - and smiled up at Blaine, who beamed back. "Get your violin?" 

In moments, the two of them were set up. Kurt placed his copy of the music on a stand and sat in one of the chairs he used for lessons, right beside the piano. Blaine began to play, his fingers pressing the piano's keys so lightly Kurt could hardly believe he was able to produce the notes. The violin didn't enter for several measures, so he had time to simply watch. Their eyes met after a few seconds, Blaine's so full of tender warmth that once again Kurt found himself short of breath. But he raised his violin at the right time, the two of them playing together seamlessly since sight-reading had never been a problem for Kurt. 

The piece spoke of longing; the piano attempting to elicit cheerfulness but soon overshadowed by the violin's slow cadence. Kurt didn't know if Blaine really understood how perfectly it illustrated the two of them at this moment in their shared lives, but he thought he must. 

"Again," Kurt said thickly, and Blaine shifted on the piano bench to focus on the first page. Kurt hardly needed to refer to the sheet music this time, keeping his eyes closed for most of the piece. And when it was over and he looked at Blaine again, he wasn't surprised to see yet more tears.

"No, baby," he whispered, standing and leaning over Blaine at the piano, holding his violin and bow in one hand while cupping Blaine's cheek with the other. "Thank you, it's beautiful. I want to play it with you in public, if we can."

"If we have time," Blaine said softly, and Kurt closed his eyes against the pang the words sent through his chest. "I'm glad you like it."

"I love it. I love _you._ " Kurt kissed him then, delicately and with very little pressure, stroking his cheek with the ball of his thumb. "And I'm not hungry for dinner."

Blaine smiled against Kurt's mouth, and Kurt could tell just by touch that it was a sad one. "Good. Me neither."

It was difficult to put his violin away properly with Blaine standing behind him, arms around his waist and lips pressing kisses to the nape of his neck, but he managed it. It was the last practical thing he was able to do that night, as the rest of it was spent wrapped tightly in Blaine's arms and his world narrowed to nothing but skin and lips and love.

 

"Kurt."

"Mmm."

"Kurt, wake up."

"No. Go 'way."

"This is important, sweetheart. I need you to wake up." 

Kurt moaned again and pulled a pillow over his head, but Blaine tugged it away. Not to be outsmarted, Kurt then turned on his side and tucked his face into Blaine's shoulder, flinging an arm across Blaine's chest and holding him close. He heard Blaine let out a groan of frustration and laughed lightly in response, kissing the hollow of Blaine's collarbone. "I'm _serious,_ there's something you need to see."

Sighing deeply, Kurt flopped over onto his back at last, pushing his bangs out of his eyes and blinking slowly at Blaine, who was hovering over him with his phone in one hand. "This better be good," he mumbled, and yawned.

"It is. It so is." For the first time, Kurt noticed Blaine's tone of voice - tightly controlled enthusiasm that made the edges of his words quiver. He looked up at him with his eyes fully in focus now. Blaine exhaled sharply and said, "I got an email from Claire, my contact in Sydney. Mostly just a general update - they decided on the exact date they need me to be there, a rough outline of the first couple of months, stuff about housing. But there's also... Kurt." Blaine stopped, licking his lips, and broke into a euphoric grin. "She also said that their CM is retiring. So the violins are shifting. And there's going to be an open chair."

Kurt couldn't take it in at first, his brain still foggy with sleep and the news simply too huge to comprehend. He swallowed hard and then let his mouth drop open a little, staring hard at Blaine, who was actually shaking with excitement now. "An open chair?" Kurt repeated in an awed whisper, refusing to believe it until Blaine confirmed it.

"Yes. Yes." Blaine bent to kiss him swiftly, and then held out his phone. Kurt took it with trembling hands. The email was already on the screen; he scanned through most of it, but when he got to the second-to-last paragraph he greedily read every word. 

"There's no way..."

"Of course there is!" Blaine exclaimed, and Kurt really shouldn't have been surprised that he knew what the rest of the sentence would have been. "Kurt, you're too good for Portland. _Way_ too good. How else do you think you made CM at your age? You belong somewhere better, bigger."

Kurt could still only stare at him, breathing in hitches and stutters. His head spun. How much of this was Blaine, his _boyfriend,_ talking, and how much was unbiased truth? "I... I wouldn't even dare to..."

"You have to dare, though. If you want to stay here and have job security for the next 35 years and all that, I'm not going to fault you. It's completely understandable. But I know you. I know somewhere inside you dream of something more. You can stay and be a big fish in a little pond, or you can take a leap and have a chance at something incredible."

All at once, he knew Blaine was right. He had achieved more at a relatively early age than he'd ever thought he could, and until now it had been enough. Kurt had never even considered going somewhere else; why should he, when he'd reached the top of his profession without straying more than two hours from his hometown? That was what living in one place all your life did - it made you forget that there was a whole huge world out there, ready for the taking if you had the guts to try. 

"Blaine," he whispered. "Blaine, I don't... this is so big, I can't--" He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, letting go of the phone and groping blindly for Blaine's hands. "They're going to have so many people auditioning."

"They will," Blaine agreed in a quiet, soothing voice, and kissed Kurt's cheek. "I'm not going to lie to you. But think about it - you know how influential Sue's endorsement will be. That you became CM at 25 is absolutely nothing to sneeze at, either. And... okay, I hate any form of nepotism" - here Kurt's eyes flew open again - "and I have no idea if my opinion will even matter, but you know I'll put in a gigantic word for you."

"You'd better," Kurt said breathlessly.

"I'll email her right now if you want me to."

That brought it home to him - this was not a decision to be made on the spur of the moment like this. He couldn't just up and say he'd do it, risk everything without giving it serious thought first. Kurt sat up slowly, propping pillows against the headboard so he could lean against them, and bit his lip as he looked at Blaine for several silent moments. At last he said, "I doubt if just one email would be enough to get me an audition."

Blaine shook his head. "Probably not, but I can at least ask for an idea of what you _would_ need to do."

"No guarantees."

"No."

"Blaine... what I mean is, yes, I'm fine with you asking, but I'm not telling you right now that I'll even do this. It's too big to just--"

"Oh, I know, I know! God, yes, take all the time you need." Blaine smiled at him reassuringly, but he was still wriggling a little, his joy palpable. "I'm going to email her, okay?"

Kurt nodded, continuing to chew at his lip as he watched Blaine settle onto his back to type the message on his phone. After a few minutes, he asked if Kurt wanted to hear it before he sent it. "Yes, obviously," Kurt replied, rolling his eyes affectionately. "God only knows what you're saying."

Grinning, Blaine cleared his throat and began to read. "'My fabulously gorgeous boyfriend, Kurt Hummel, is the best goddamn violinist in the entire world and the SSO would be out of its fucking mind to deny him a spot.'" Kurt groaned loudly, trying to snatch the phone from Blaine's hand, but Blaine held it high out of reach. They descended into an all-out tickle fight, the phone dropped unceremoniously onto the floor, and pillows and sheets went flying every which way as they rolled all over the bed. It was over when Kurt managed to pin Blaine by the wrists, Blaine's head hanging off the foot of the bed and him crying 'Uncle!' in a hoarse voice broken by laughter. Kurt planted a loud, smacking kiss to the center of his chest before letting him up, and he plucked the phone from the floor to read the email draft himself. 

It was, obviously, much more subdued than what Blaine had recited, but still enthusiastic. Maybe a tiny bit biased, but Kurt didn't mind. Blaine had to sell him, of course. "Sounds perfect," he said, handing the phone back with a smile.

But Blaine was shaking his head. "You send it." Kurt frowned at him. "Come on."

Sighing, but wearing an exasperated smile, Kurt touched the right spot on the phone's screen. "Sent," he said softly, watching Blaine's inbox refresh. Then he dropped the phone onto the bed and covered his face with both hands to muffle a squawk of trepidation. "I can't believe this."

"Believe it, beautiful." Blaine gently pried Kurt's hands away and kissed him before Kurt could open his eyes. The phone got lost in a tangle of bedclothes, and neither of them even thought to look for it until much, _much_ later.

 

When Kurt first found out that Blaine was going to Sydney, he had thought of it as a cruel, tables-turned culmination of all the times Blaine had asked him for impractical things. "You don't want to be with me yet? Don't want to meet my parents yet? You're iffy about me asking you to come with me if I get a job on the East Coast? _Fine!_ Check this out!" He'd thought, in a twisted sort of way, that they were square. But now, the pressure was back on him, and it was the worst ever by far.

His heart knew exactly what to do. His _heart_ was already prepared to put his house on the market and say goodbye to everyone he'd ever known and loved except Blaine. It was kind of ridiculous; all of those previous times his head and heart had been equal parts unsure, but on this, the biggest of all, logic had a very difficult time keeping emotion reined in. He supposed that meant something. 

He still wanted to think it through carefully, though. Blaine had heard back from Claire the following day and been told that while Kurt was welcome to actually come to Sydney and audition in person, it wouldn't be necessary; he could just do what Blaine had done for the apprenticeship and send them video files. "So easy!" Blaine had said with a grin, and Kurt had only grimaced back at him. _Too_ easy, in his mind. They could have at least forced him to do it in person so he'd have to weigh the cost and time of traveling into his decision. 

Blaine promised that he wouldn't badger Kurt about it, he would leave him to his own thoughts. "You know what I want, anyway," he'd said gently, and then he'd kissed Kurt's cheek and wandered away. Kurt sort of hated him for that.

 

"I know it's gotta be important when you ask me to get on this video thing," his father grumbled, squinting at his laptop monitor.

Kurt smiled at his own. "I know you're still afraid of it," he said teasingly. "I promise, the camera isn't going to eat your soul." 

"Yeah, yeah." Burt gave him a gruff smile, then lapsed into silence for a few seconds, looking at Kurt with that reluctant fondness Kurt knew so well. "How've you been doing?"

"Okay. I'm... coping." He had called his father two days after hearing about where Blaine was going, more out of desperation and a need to just hear his voice than anything else. "That's actually why I wanted to talk to you. The situation has changed. Well, there's the potential for change, anyway."

Burt raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. After taking a deep breath, Kurt spilled everything out, including every last detail. He had to stop in the middle when Carole arrived - earlier than his father had expected her, but none of them minded, and Kurt began his story again so she could hear all of it. She and Burt had become extremely close (Burt had confided to Kurt a couple of weeks ago that he was thinking about proposing) and Kurt considered her part of their small family, so it was only right for her to offer her opinion on what he should do.

When he finished, Kurt sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh and took a long drink of water, his eyes never leaving the screen of his laptop. Burt and Carole turned to look at each other, communicating silently - Kurt couldn't help smirking a little at how comically _adorable_ it was. Still looking at his father, Carole said, "I think the answer's right in front of you, honey. Kurt," she added hastily, turning to look at their screen again. "I know you're going to rely on what your dad has to say more than what I say, but if I've learned anything in the last six months..." She paused, and at the bottom of the screen, Kurt saw her take Burt's hand. "It's that you shouldn't ignore what your heart tells you."

Kurt pressed his lips together, wishing so badly that they were here, or that he was there, because God, he wanted to hug and kiss that woman right now. "Dad?" he asked, his voice cracking.

"She's right, Kurt," Burt said, much more gently than Kurt was used to hearing him speak. "I don't even have to say anything."

"No, don't do it that way," Kurt insisted, leaning close to his monitor. "Carole, I'm not dismissing what you said - absolutely not - I just... Dad, one of the biggest things keeping me from saying yes is how far I'd be from you. What if you get sick again? What if something else happens? I won't be an hour away anymore."

Burt waved a hand and leaned forward as well. "Listen to me. I know it was just us for a long time. Just me and you. It was tough, but we made it work, didn't we?"

"Of course we did," Kurt whispered, willing himself not to cry. "You're the best father anyone could ask for."

"And you're the best kid, okay? But I know being near home and me is why you've stayed in Portland. I know it's why you've never even thought about going anywhere else. And I appreciate it, you know I do, but I've always felt guilty for it."

"You shouldn't, come on."

"Well, it's not as simple as that. But look, Kurt - you have your own life to live. You've got a good kid there-- sorry, a good _man._ Blaine. He's good for you, he's _great_ for you." Beside him, Carole was nodding. "And you can't let your lonely old man hold you back anymore, because hey, I'm not lonely now." Carole snickered, nudging his arm with hers, and he looked at her with a tender smile, then brought their clasped hands to his mouth to kiss the back of hers. "Okay, so now we've got that out of the way," he said to Kurt. "What else is keeping you from doing this?"

Kurt shrugged. "My job. My friends." Then he frowned, shifting uncomfortably in his chair and addressing the keyboard instead of the camera. "Being afraid that Blaine and I might break up six months after we get there."

He heard Carole cluck her tongue and glanced back up at the screen. "Kurt, I've met Blaine exactly twice and even I know he would lay down in traffic for you. And you would for him."

Kurt nodded, then groaned and covered his face with his hands. "You two are terrible at talking people out of things," he said, his words muffled, but their laughter rang through quite clearly.

"I don't think you _want_ to be talked out of it," Burt said. "I think you just wanted my permission or something."

He peeked between his fingers, saw his father smirking at him, and groaned again. "You suck."

The two of them burst out laughing again, and this time Kurt joined them, slumping down in his chair and tapping his index finger on the table. "I might not get in, you know," he said, sobering at once. "Then Blaine and I will be right back where we started."

"And if that happens, you'll make it," Burt told him. 

Carole nodded in agreement, smiling warmly at Kurt, and then said quickly, "Or you could just go with him anyway." 

Father and son both stared at her, but she maintained a look of purest innocence. Then Burt hurriedly changed the subject and Kurt went along with it, but he didn't stop thinking about what she'd said. He _couldn't._

 

His father and Carole were only the first people Kurt spoke to about his predicament. Also on the list were Sue, Rachel, a couple of other non-music friends, and even Finn, who he had grown oddly close to over the last year. They all told him what he already knew, even if Sue gave him quite a bit of grief about it. "I should rip you a new one for making me replace Schuester _and_ you at the same time," she complained, and simply waved him off when he reminded her that he wouldn't need replacing, the assistant concertmaster would just move up. "Erin's not you. Nobody in this state is you." 

True to his word, Blaine hadn't pestered him, but Kurt could tell he was anxious for the decision. Nearly two weeks had passed since the email from Claire and Kurt still hadn't settled. Well, he _had,_ but he hadn't said it out loud to anyone, not even himself, so it didn't count yet. 

On the first of May, Kurt came home in the late afternoon after picking up his bow from the luthier's, where it had received its semi-annual restringing. Blaine was hunkered over the piano, sheet music everywhere, preparing for the symphony's last concert of the season. It looked to Kurt as though he was trying to work on both pieces at the same time - _Symphonie Fantastique_ and _Pictures at an Exhibition_ \- and marveled at Blaine's concentration. Blaine merely glanced up at him with a brief smile before returning to his work, scratching out an entire measure he'd made notes on as Kurt kissed his cheek. 

"Thai for dinner tonight?" Blaine asked absently. 

"Sounds good," Kurt replied, smiling at Quinn, who had just come into the living room. He sat down on the sofa and patted the space next to him for her to join him, and she jumped up with a deep purr. "You look exhausted."

"I fucking hate Berlioz. I swear I mentioned that to Sue last February and she stuck him in at the last minute just to give me a fantastic going away present." Blaine frowned at his music, then groaned and scribbled his pencil across another wide swath of notes. 

"It'll be fine," Kurt soothed, most of his attention on Quinn, who had climbed up into his lap and was nudging one of his hands with the top of her head. He cupped her face between his hands and stroked along her whiskers with his thumbs, putting his nose quite close to hers. Across the room, Blaine continued to sigh and shuffle his pages. Kurt knew the moment was at hand. Just a tiny bit longer.

They all sat in silence for a few minutes, Blaine working and Kurt focusing on the cat. He waited until Blaine finally tossed down his pencil in disgust and stretched both arms over his head, and then Kurt cleared his throat and said in a clear, light voice, "Yes."

"Huh?" Blaine asked, resting both hands on top of his head with his eyes closed.

"I said yes."

"To Thai? You already said that."

Kurt just barely held back a snort. "No, baby. Not to Thai."

Frowning, Blaine looked over at him. He opened his mouth, probably to ask what on earth Kurt was talking about, but then his expression slowly began shifting. Confusion, to disbelief, to cautious alertness, and finally to sheer joy. "Are you serious?" he exclaimed, standing up so quickly that the piano bench nearly toppled over, but neither of them noticed because Blaine was racing over to the sofa. "You're serious. You're really serious." He flopped down beside Kurt, startling Quinn badly, and grabbed both of Kurt's hands. "You mean it, don't you?"

"I do," Kurt whispered, smiling so widely it hurt his cheeks. 

"Oh my God," Blaine said hollowly. "Oh my God. _Kurt._ " And before Kurt could say another word, Blaine had pulled him in for an incredible kiss, moaning deep into his mouth as he ran his hands up and down Kurt's arms, seemingly unable to settle on one spot. Kurt just giggled back at him, allowing himself to be swept up in the moment while he kept one hand lightly on Quinn's back to hold her on his lap. She needed to be a part of this, something told him.

Blaine broke the kiss after several dizzying moments, gasping quietly as he leaned his forehead against Kurt's. "I love you so much, I can't believe this. And you're going to get in. You're absolutely going to get in, don't even worry about it."

"Shh, don't jinx it," Kurt murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth. "But even if I don't, I'm still coming with you." Blaine jerked back, blinking at him in astonishment, and Kurt nodded. "I'll give lessons! Maybe I'll go back to school for a teaching degree. Who knows? It doesn't matter; as long as I get to play somehow, and as long as I'm with you, I'll be just fine." He paused to let Blaine whimper softly and kiss him again, then he went on. "I've been complacent for so long. Content to stay here in this safe little bubble. And it's time for me to take some risks. Well," he added, smiling, "Some _other_ risks."

Swallowing, Blaine pointed to himself, eyebrows raised. "Yes, other risks than being with you," Kurt confirmed with a laugh. "As if taking you on wasn't taxing enough," he teased, and covered Blaine's mouth with his own when Blaine started to protest.

"Have you... God, there's so much to do. Have you talked to Sue?"

Kurt nodded. "I've already made a giant list. Selling the house is the most important thing, obviously." He sighed, glancing around the living room for a few seconds before looking back to Blaine. "You have to be there in late August, but I doubt I'll be able to join you at the same time."

"No, I know. That's fine," Blaine said quietly. "My head's going round and round here..."

"Welcome to my life for the last week or so."

Blaine smiled weakly at him, and then down at Quinn. "Did you hear that, sugarpie?" He reached over to carefully pick her up and cradled her against his chest. "You're going to live in _Australia_ with the koala bears."

At this, Kurt let out a horrified gasp. "Shit, I forgot all about her! No, Blaine, she _can't_ come!"

"Why not?"

"I can't put her in a crate and make her fly for 17 hours! She'll _die!_ " Kurt whined loudly, slumping against the back of the sofa and covering his eyes with one palm. "Fuck me."

"Sweetheart, of course she won't die," Blaine said gently, but Kurt shook his head. "Well, what are you going to do, then?"

With another whine, Kurt let his hand fall into his lap and stared at Quinn, who was staring back at him - reproachfully, he thought. "Rachel," he said slowly. "I can give her to Rachel. She's always adored her. When I first got her, she tried to bribe me into giving Quinn to her. It's been a while since she dropped any hints, but I'm sure she'd still take her."

"If you want to," Blaine murmured. "I know why you got her in the first place, though. You're sure you're okay with giving her up?"

Kurt raised his eyes from the cat to smile at Blaine. "Yes," he replied, nodding, and pulled Quinn from Blaine's arms to set her on the floor, wanting nothing between himself and Blaine now. He leaned close to him, brushing his lips very lightly over Blaine's, and whispered right against them. "You're all the comfort I need."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Symphony AU. Kurt is the 27-year-old first violinist and concertmaster of the Oregon Symphony Orchestra in Portland. Blaine arrives in town to guest conduct their concert of Holst's The Planets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Livejournal January-March 2012. Masterpost: http://colfer.livejournal.com/47608.html

**Epilogue - "Tranquillamente"**

 

Something heavy bounced onto the bed beside him. "Wake up, lazybones! I've let you sleep for long enough." A warm, familiar hand touched his shoulder, jostling him lightly. "It's after nine o'clock!"

Kurt groaned, trying to roll over and bury his face into the pillow, but Blaine's grip on his shoulder tightened. "I'm still jet-lagged," he mumbled, keeping his eyes closed. 

"Don't give me that."

"I am!" Kurt whined softly, one hand groping to find some part of Blaine's body. His fingers landed on what he thought was a knee and pushed at it. "Five more minutes."

Laughing, Blaine said, "Nope. You're getting up." He caught hold of Kurt's hand and kissed the back of it, then began to gently turn him over onto his back. Kurt let out another whine at the bright sunlight, flung an arm over his face, and stuck his tongue out. "Keep it in your mouth unless you intend to use it."

"Like you haven't gotten enough of it in the last two days," Kurt grumbled, but a smile had finally broken out over his face. He lowered his arm and slowly blinked his eyes open, the smile widening at the sight of Blaine. "Hi."

"Hello," Blaine said quietly, and leaned close to him for a kiss. "I've been up for two hours. Our thing starts at noon, so I'm not just being mean, especially if you want to get brunch first." 

"I know, I know." Kurt sat up, rubbing his eyes. "I still can't believe you're making me do this so soon. Seriously, Blaine. I just got here."

"Yeah, but I've been waiting to do it _until_ you got here, and I'm excited as hell, so don't ruin it." 

Kurt stuck his tongue out again, and grinned when Blaine gave him a playfully forbidding look. "I guess pleading exhaustion from two solid days of sex isn't enough to get me out of it?" he asked hopefully.

Blaine didn't even bother to answer, just kissed him again and patted his leg before standing up. "I'll make fresh coffee," he called over his shoulder as he headed for the bedroom door.

Kurt just sat in the center of the bed for another minute or two, yawning and stretching, and then dragged himself to the bathroom. Most of his complaining was just for show, they both knew that. He was as excited as Blaine was to do the Sydney Harbor Bridge Climb, which was a rite of passage for all tourists to the city - although Kurt insisted that they _weren't_ tourists but proper residents, and would be for longer than just this year. He had his chair with the SSO, and he was certain that they would want to keep Blaine permanently instead of just letting him go after his apprenticeship was over. 

As he brushed his teeth, it occurred to him that it was sort of silly that he'd be getting his first glimpse of his new place of employment, the Sydney Opera House, not from the street like a normal person but from more than 400 feet in the air. Talk about starting a new job in style.

The bathroom, like the rest of the apartment, still looked as though only one person lived there, but that would change very quickly. Kurt had arrived two days earlier, on October 17th, and as he and Blaine hadn't seen each other in the flesh for more than two months, they had spent the next 48 hours trying to kill each other in bed. Blaine had the week off from work to help Kurt settle in, although both of them were quite sure their employers knew the majority of their time wouldn't consist of anything even resembling relaxation. The new concertmaster, a brassy American named Lauren Zizes, had wanted Kurt to begin rehearsals the day after he'd arrived, which was all he needed to know that she would be tough as hell to work under. Blaine had told him horror stories about her, but they hadn't deterred Kurt much - after all, he had worked with Sue Sylvester for a decade. He could take Zizes. He'd have her job in five years without a problem, anyway.

Stifling another yawn, he flushed the toilet, glancing down at the water absently at first and then widening his eyes. Something was... off. Curious, he slowly flushed again, staring into the bowl, and then a third time. At last, it hit him. "Blaine! Blaine, get in here!"

"What happened?"

"Just get in here, you have to see this!"

Blaine joined him in the bathroom a moment later, looking amused at the fact that Kurt was standing stark naked in front of the toilet with his eyes gleaming. "This is amazing, watch," Kurt said, gesturing for Blaine to come closer. When he was standing right beside him, Kurt pushed the lever down once more, pointing excitedly at the swirling water. "It flushes--"

"The other way," Blaine said with him, and laughed at Kurt's shocked expression. "I know. You're quicker than I am, though. I didn't notice it for a week."

"It's so cool, though!" Struck by a fit of sheer, unbridled happiness, Kurt grabbed him in a tight hug, then quickly pushed him away and hurried to wash his hands. "Are there other little things like that? Things different from home?"

Blaine nodded. "A few, yes. But I don't want to tell you what they are. I want to be there when you discover them yourself." 

For the first time, Kurt realized that Blaine had already acquired a bit of an Australian accent - just slightly, mostly the dropping of his 'R's that sounded different from his Boston influence. He found it incredibly sexy. Biting his lip, he glanced past Blaine to the bed, wondering if they had time for a quickie.

"I see you looking," Blaine said warningly. "No way. We'll never leave. This afternoon."

Half an hour later, Kurt was showered, dressed, and full of caffeine, ready to venture outside for the first time in his new - well, his new _home._ He smiled at this thought while Blaine darted around to make sure he had everything they needed for the day, and gave him an impulsive kiss when he opened the front door at last. "Thank you," Blaine whispered, and kissed him again, pressing his forehead to Kurt's briefly. "Ready?"

"Yes. Got the keys?"

Blaine patted his pockets. "Keys, yes-- oh, shit!" He slammed the door shut again and ran for the bedroom without another word, leaving Kurt to stare after him in alarm. "I totally forgot! One second!"

He emerged shortly, his cheeks flushed from either exertion or excitement, Kurt couldn't tell, and came back to where Kurt stood by the door. He was grinning, which made Kurt immediately suspicious. "Close your eyes." Kurt obeyed, and heard a soft tinkling sound. "Ta-da," Blaine said softly, and Kurt cracked one eye.

Dangling from Blaine's index finger was a set of keys, though not his own, Kurt knew. Although the keychain was identical to Blaine's - a sterling silver puzzle piece - there were only two keys hanging from it. "They're yours," Blaine murmured. "You live here too, so you need keys, don't you?"

Kurt smiled gratefully, nodding as he took them. "You have the same--" But he broke off there, having just noticed that the puzzle piece he held was engraved with a 'K'. "Oh, you bastard," he whispered. "You did yours too, I bet."

"Of course I did." Blaine dug his own keys from his pocket and showed Kurt the engraved 'B' on the keychain. "And look..." He took Kurt's keys back and carefully fitted the peg of that puzzle piece into the groove on his own. "They're a set."

"You _bastard,_ " Kurt repeated, blinking back sudden, ridiculous tears.

Blaine chuckled, shrugging. "I know, I know. I saw them about a month ago and I just had to buy them. Sue me, I'm a silly romantic."

"It's not silly," Kurt said quietly, and coiled both arms around Blaine's shoulders as he gave him a fierce, stunning kiss. 

They clung together for several seconds, both sets of keys clinking softly in Blaine's palm as he held Kurt close. "Love you," Kurt whispered against his mouth. "I love you so much I moved to the other side of the world to be with you. Remember that."

"I'll never forget it," Blaine assured him, and kissed him once more before stepping back to open the door. Their new life lay just outside of it.

 

~fin


End file.
